Rays of faith
by QueenYoda
Summary: A missing scene from my story Strength of the Sacrificed. After Padme Amidala commits adultery, her relationship with Anakin is in shattered straits of mistrust and unsaid hurts. Desperate to make amends with each other, the two journey to Ilum's sacred ice caves in order to find that spark of light that will enable love to triumph, facing life-threatening danger along the way.
1. Chapter 1

**Previously: ** _"You love him," it was a fact. Obi-wan sighed with the directness of her approach, but disagreed not. "As much as you do. That is why I know you two can get past this, Padme. Love knows no bounds, including those put in place by grief, betrayal or death. It's what the Light is," love. That was all it was made of. That was what they fought for and sacrificed for; the most noble of causes. The only ideal worth not only dying for, but living for. Padme took in a deep breath, and released it. Her chest felt twenty pounds lighter immediately following. "In the morning, me and Ani will have a real talk," she decided resolutely. Obi-wan cocked an eyebrow, ducking his head to hide his smile as he began walking back to the room. "I wish you luck. Words aren't his specialty," he grunted. Padme followed, a slight spring in her step. "Love knows no bounds…" They had a lot of work to do, but hard work had never frightened her, treacherous roads were nothing but greater adventures, the hard way was often the only way, and she preferred it._

* * *

In the morning. That was the key word, wasn't it? In the morning. The words had always seemed less daunting when spoken the day before. Morning, after all, was whole light years away. It was the slow inching of the ship around the sun and the sun around the planet, it was ten thousand seconds of waiting and that waiting should have provided ample time to gather her nerve, ample time to think, to contemplate. To know the way.

But what way was there?

This, in turn, was her dilemma. When the iron bars of jail have surrounded you, when there is no one to shoot but yourself, then how do you find a way? What way is there form the dark when the light is superficial?

It was morning, and Padme Amidala was not ready.

She had been confident and brave the night before. She had known that this was right. But now with heart shattering with the remembered weight of anguish from the mistakes she had made, she knew that if there was one thing on the face of existence that she was _not_; it was ready. It was willing.

_You could lose him. _

The durasteel of the ship, _Anakin's _ship, passed by her vision in nauseating flashes of gray and some tiny pinpoints of white as she sidestepped clones and some brown when she came across Jedi. None spoke to her, or if they did she heard them not, for she was marching aimlessly into destruction. Again.

_You could lose him. _

But she already had, hadn't she? She had lost him once, been lost, known loss and why was this still new to her? After all that Padme had done and fought for what was one more war? What was one more fight to a fighter? What was one more talk amongst lifetimes of serious talks?

_You could lose him._

Loss. Attachment led to fear of loss, and fear led to anger, anger led to hatred, hatred led to suffering. It was oft repeated aphorism, it was there, it was real and the truth of the matter was that Anakin had already passed fear.

He _was _fear. Padme had been able to see it the day he looked into her eyes and choked with stunning clarity, with a wisdom beyond the years he had lived _"I'm a Jedi. I __**know**__ I'm better than this!"_ A sucking bruise bleeding with fear and she had only poured salt into the gash for she had personified all he had feared to lose. Again.

Anakin was fear, but Padme was betrayal. There were reasons for her ignorance-for her idiocy. There always were. Anger always had a reason, but seldom a good one. The only way to fight mistrust was with trust. She had to trust that all would end up alright. If it weren't so hard, if it weren't morning, she might have been able to slow her heart, might have been able to talk herself into this.

She stopped outside with no recollection of having gotten up to see Anakin missing beside her and realizing, with gutting nervousness, that it was morning. The Queen of Naboo had never before feared a new day to this extent. She had never before hated the dawn for being there, as it was always there. She had no recollection of having gotten up, dressed, pinned her hair back, gone to meeting (what had been said?) talked to Ahsoka about Lux (was he alright?) and finally leaving the Twins with Master Tinn (his smile had been so bright. Had he thanked her?) before venturing to the one place a general of such status would be.

Padme halted outside of the door to the map room, inhaled once, twice, punched herself to make sure she was alive, to remind herself that as her heart bled she still had blood to bleed.

To remind herself that it was morning; and she had promised.

Jiro. Levi. Anakin. Shantra. These names had a new meaning. They brought with them a whole plethora of memories and agonies. Each name held a story, a face, a feeling… All these names were evidence of her betrayal. And she had come to face them down and say what had needed to be said for too long now.

"I'm sorry."

You could lose him.

And if they-he-turned her away at the remembrance of what she was, then she would have to let him go because what reason did she have to claim him? What answer was there when he asked "why should I?" because he would ask it, and she had no answer, knew only that if he left, her soul would leave too. Her heart, soul, mind.

But that was inconsequential, wasn't it? That was_ stupid_. She had handed those things to him a long time ago, and he to her. She had already crushed his heart, why not let him crush hers in reply?

She had already lost him. It was just time to make it official.

"If you have any goodness at all," she begged the universe internally, knowing that it was a vain attempt for the universe had long ago showed her that it did not even understand the concept of goodness "Let me have him again," and so she opened the door.

Anakin Skywalker was as he always was, indescribable. He was so many things that even watching him staring at a map could not accurately describe him. He was staring at a map.

Surely these were the moves of a general? But no. He was not just staring at it, he was studying it as keenly as a little slave boy had studied her when she walked into Watto's shop on a hot day behind a reckless Jedi master.

He wasn't leaning over the map, hands flat on the control panel, he was _crouching _there as still as the young man who had stood over his mother's grave and been unaffected by the sandy winds.

His eyes did not flick from side to side, they slid like oil over the details as the warrior-man who had barreled into her room one late night and extinguished killer worms with a flick of his glowing stick.

The pale blue light did not cast dull shadows upon his face, but his face melted _into_ the shadows, a predator of the dark, a deadly trained assassin who cut down flying, screeching Geonosians in underground caves with an emotionless face.

His face was not strained; it was focused as a dedicated general and serious freedom fighter who had long ago thrown the cloak of tradition and taken on the bronze sword of compassion.

His shoulders were not tense, they were ready as that Jedi Padawan who had stood back to back with her and held his weapon before him, ready to die in an arena, willing to go down if only he took some of the sleemo's with him.

He was everything. General. Warrior. Jedi. Father. Husband. Son. Forgotten. Unredeemable. He was Anakin, and for that reason he took her breath away and left her standing there bereft of any thought besides that it was morning. And she wasn't ready, had never been ready.

Obi-wan had said that love conquered all, but it had been love to get them here in the first place. What logical answer was there for that? What inspirational saying could explain why love always led to pain? She had bene duped by the negotiator. Duped by her heart. Duped by the feelings stirring within her now as the indescribable shadow looked up, and smiled uncomfortably when he saw her. There used to be such easy camaraderie between them.

Where was it? His eyes lit up and he straightened, taller, more powerful, someone who could snap her neck with a mere wave of his hand. And he had thrown her mistakes to the wind carelessly when there were so many out there who wanted him more…Who would give him _more_…

_You could lose him. _

"Padme," she was alone with him. The doors had closed. The lights were dimmed. "What's wrong?" He knew something was. She hoped he couldn't hear her heart, then discarded the thought. He was Jedi. Of course he could sense it. That was why he had asked.

"Anakin," she wanted to say Ani, should she say Ani? No. Not now. Not when there was such unease between them that she could not deny because she felt it too. That was the presumed reason she wanted to flee for her life after all. Just the sight of him looking at her made her feel filthy, soiled with the dirt of disloyalty, soaked in the retches of wickedness.

"We need to talk," so far, so good. Her beating heart didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He needed to hear the truth, he deserved to know why and she in turn wanted to know what now. An answer for an answer. A heart for a heart. A trust for a trust.

"Oh," he turned completely, crossed his arms. He narrowed his eyes at her. He probably knew what this was about, but like her, he was not ready. It was morning, and neither of them wanted to see the sun. They had preferred to stay in the dark because then at least they didn't have to look at the demons.

They didn't have to face the devils prowling in the darkness and know that they were demons whose faces reflected their own. "What about?" Stupid, stupid man. Why did he feel the need to make her say it? Why make the road bumpier just because you didn't want to face the bumps already in the road?

"Courascant."

He paled. Her breath hitched. They were afraid. She, the fearless politician in court and the demanding fighter in battle was terrified of one word. Him, the Hero with no Fear, the charming crusader had paled at the statement. Most people would, granted. Courascant was the Sith home world after all. But it was not only that to them. To them, Courascant was everything that had torn them apart.

"You…" he gulped, shifted. She looked down, clenched her jaw. "You want to talk about this? You _really_ do? Because you know we don't have too. We don't need to…" he was trying to escape. Padme did not blame him, for she felt the same. If she could escape then by all means she wanted too, but escape wasn't what they needed. It was not what was going to keep them together. Love was not an escape, it was a truth.

_You could lose him_.

She steeled herself for the carnage. "We do need too," she determined softly, hardly able to get the whisper past her throat, which ached with tears already too close to the surface. Anakin studied her expressionlessly before he spoke. "Now?" He wondered.

Padme nodded. "If you aren't busy," she knew he wasn't. He had been staring at a map of something he already knew intimately. That hardly said 'busy,' more of trying to avoid something or someone. Padme could only hope that it hadn't been her.

She knew that it was, but hoping and knowing are two different functions that often did not get along very well for one was of the heart and the other the brain. Those two had long been enemies, far longer than she and Anakin had been amongst living beings.

A sigh from him. He glanced around, as if trying to find something to do that would distract his attention. Padme half hoped that he would find something so that she in turn could find something. It never hurt to stay in the dark a little, did it? Sometimes ignorance was the best shield. Sometimes the light just didn't help. "I'm… Not," he admitted.

Despite that, the Light _did_ always win. Padme exhaled shakily, scared and worried, but knowing that it was inevitable now. She accepted her fate, accepted that this was going to hurt. Because just as Anakin was a salty bleeding wound of fear, she was a gaping black hole of betrayal, sucking everything in but always remaining _empty._

What happened when you tried to sew a wound close and fill a black hole?

Anakin was looking around in earnest now. "Not here," he breathed. Padme gazed at him in confusion. "Not here," he said again with more confidence this time. He looked at her with eyes that were so dark they could have been black hole themselves, trying to devour the reality and finding out that it was actually devouring him.

"Where else is there to go?" She asked softly, wondering if perhaps he just didn't want to be anywhere near her, and was trying to find a different way of saying it. Anakin played with the hem of his pants and glanced around, as if trying to find a corner to crawl into.

"Ilum," he decided after a moment. Padme stared. Ilum? The ice planet that they were defending? _That _Ilum? "Not here," Anakin repeated thrice. "This ship…The Force…It's a war ship; and the Force…" He trailed off, but Padme understood anyway.

Aboard this ship, bustling with Jedi, clones and every other manner of people all preparing to fight, the Force was preparing itself for war. And they were trying to end war. He could not focus on _ending _something that in the atmosphere of this cold place was just _beginning._

"Alright," she unclenched her fists, nodding to let him know that she understood. "Alright. Let's go to Ilum."

* * *

If anyone asks me where this came from, I answer thus: I have absolutely no idea. But in light of recalling some pleading reviews for this scene during the Strength of the Sacrifice that I never put in, I decided I owed my readers at least a chance at reconciliation with Padme, even if that was supposed to come later. Anyway, next chapter up soon!

~QueenYoda


	2. Faith

On Ilum, morning meant little. Tatooine was desolated hotness, with winds that seared the skin and bubbled the blood until you fell exhausted into the soft sands to be baked by twin suns, but Ilum's wind bit into the skin until chunks of it froze and you finally collapsed into a numb slumber, being thrown and tumbled by the strong gusts into the ice before being buried beneath icicles.

The wind howled when the tiny ship, silent and grave, landed. Tiny assassins, innocently shaped like snowflakes, whipped their faces numb before the ramp had opened all the way. Padme could not see more than a few feet ahead. She knew that if such a gift had been granted to her, she might have seen glorious mountains, and beautiful sculptures the elements had crafted for themselves and not mortal eyes, but it was morning.

She couldn't even see the sun. There were clouds, dark and heavy above, adding weight to the monstrosity already on her shoulders. The clothes they wore were heavy too, to protect from the cold, but the fabric did not matter for the cold was already in their hearts and was it really _morning?_

Somewhere past the clouds were cruisers, but they had been left behind. All that held within those cruisers, friends, family, comrades and duties… They existed not in the howling winds of Ilum. Ilum judged not on who you were but what you did, how well you survived. It was a merciless space to go for this, but it was the only place not preparing for war. It was a place sacred to the Jedi Order. She was honored to be there.

"Where are we going?" She could not see anything. Anakin stood next to her on the ramp of the ship as she shivered. He stared into the masses of white snowflakes being battered by the winds as if he were being called by some foreign source.

"The cave of seers," he said softly. "It isn't far," he pointed into the white dusk. "Only a few feet ahead," he said. Padme squinted at the gloom. She saw nothing. In fact she was hardly inclined to believe that anything was even on planet, that perhaps the gorgeous mountains and crystal caverns were nothing but Jedi legends after all.

She looked up at Anakin. He was studying her with those azure eyes of his, deep as the oceans of Mon Calamari. Slowly, hesitantly, he extended his hand towards her. "Come on," he said. "I'll take us there," Padme blinked. They would be walking instead of taking hover bikes? What if one of them fell on the slipper ice? What if the ground was unstable and they were really standing on a frozen ocean?

Some of the parts of the land could be treacherous, thin… If one of them fell in no amount of Force power or will would be able to save them. And how could he even see where he was going? What if the cave wasn't really there? Padme realized that she had never doubted Anakin's word like this before. A scant few months ago she would have grabbed his hand without even a flicker of doubt, she would have trusted him.

And this, she grasped, was part of the challenge. _This is what it is to trust, to have faith. _Padme gulped and laid her hand in his, clutching the edge of her hood close to her face. Resolutely, Anakin steered her into the blinding wind.

"Stay close," he directed in a hoarse whisper as he dragged her through the harsh winds. Padme inhaled sharply several times when she felt herself being blown to the side or her feet rising as if she were being lifted by the insane winds. She was only a measly human, and Ilum intended to teach her that.

She did not let go of Anakin's hand, though fear made her heart slam in her ears. Time passed, though she could not see it by the changing of any symbols. The wind did not lessen and the sound of its ethereal howling only gave her the feeling that someone was there, watching. Someone was there with them, following… Flashes of Vader and Sidious's faces flashed before her eyes. Red sabers appeared as dots on the horizon.

Soon, the ship vanished from sight, and ahead there was only white. Padme could not see what direction they were going, or even what direction they had come from. Fear threatened to choke her, and she tugged on Anakin's hand unconsciously.

_We're lost. _He glanced back at her, holding a hand over his eyes to shield them from the wind. "I'll get us there," he called over the wind.

Padme shook her head. "Ani, we have to go back!" She shouted over the wind, stopping to tug at his hand. "If we got lost out here, it is over!" she reminded him, tugging him in the other direction. This was just foolhardy. This was suicidal. Sort of like leading an army of _Gungans_ against the Trade Federation, sort of like marrying a Jedi.

"We won't get lost," Anakin replied, stopping also, he tugged her back. They arms stayed locked, tied together only by their fingers, grounded on one road only by their will.

"I can sense where I'm going," she could have laughed. And he trusted the Force? The Force that had willed them to Courascant in the first place. That had willed that traitor Jiro to meet her that day in the cafe and she to tur from her husband? No, Padme did not have as much faith in the outcome as Anakin did. She did not show much love for the universal currents of life that led them.

"We can't _see_ anything!" She appealed to him for reason. Anakin nodded. "I know where I'm going, Padme!" He said. Padme shook her head and pulled at his hand desperately.

"No you don't!" _you never have._ Anakin's way was not to know anything, the way of the entire order was not to _know_ anything, it was to feel it and no wonder they had been banished from their home and lost the Clone Wars. Because they never knew anything.

They just blundered through the galaxy and gained wisdom along the way. Anakin especially, Anakin _particularly_ because he ran towards danger. He ran into windstorms on Ilum, he did not tred or walk carefully, he did not stay on the narrow way, he went from side to side, zig-zagged, did loops and corkscrew dives! She knew the stories!

Why couldn't he get it through his ever-knowing, all-arrogant, reckless, sense-feeling Jedi head that no, he didn't know where he was going he was just heading in a general direction and hoping it was right!

_Please, I'm scared. I'm scared. _Padme begged him to listen with her eyes, their arms taut with leaning their opposite ways, and Padme hoped he would come with her, come back to safety and cautiousness because his recklessness was going to get him killed and then what was she supposed to do?

_Attachment leads to fear of loss. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. _

Anakin stared at her with those stubborn akk eyes that were stuff of legend and she knew that he was going to go his way with or without her. Padme shook her head. "Yes I do," he spoke calmly. "I_ do _know where I'm going Padme, even if I can't see the way. I have faith in the Force and my instincts," he tugged lightly at her fingers.

"Do you have faith in_ me_?" She stared at him for a very, very long time, remembering a boy who had done the impossible. A pod-racing champion who despite the doubt of his friends had won and freed his mother, Qui-gon had had faith in him. A boy who had bravely left his mother for a new life of freedom, and that mother who had selflessly let him go. Shmi had had faith in him. A man who had promised to find her assassin no matter what, and then been left as her protector though he was still young. Obi-wan had had faith in him, and if there was one thing that Padme was sure of, it was that none of those people had ever felt like Anakin had let them down.

She just had to believe he wouldn't let her down either, even if she couldn't see what he saw. Swallowing her fear, staring into the whiteness that bordered on darkness, she nodded fearfully and crept back to his side even as her breathing rate increased.

"Lead the way," she whispered once their hands were once more tightly linked. Anakin nodded resolutely and they began to walk through the winds again, hearing the howling. Padme closed her eyes. She couldn't see anything; she knew nothing…But that she had faith in Anakin.

Time passed, an insurmountable supply in which Padme's breathing had leveled slightly and she had almost fallen into a trance-like state of peace while she allowed Anakin to steer her blindly through the snowy plains of the unknown. Finally, he stopped, and the howling of the wind were limited to small whistles of breezes. Padme opened her eyes, and came face to face with the gaping mouth of a cave.

_It__** is**__ really here?_ She looked up just as Anakin gently detached their hands, her fingers had frozen interlocked with his and he lowered his hood. He brushed the dusting of ice and snow from the top and gazed around, face red and snow-pinched, but smug.

Now he was the friend as he turned to her, eyes twinkling as he brought out a glow-rod and attached it to both sides of his belt. "I told you I know where I'm going," he said. Padme stared at him, amazed. Slowly, her eyes wandered over the dreary and sharp rocks of the caves roof. The stone was cold, black, bleak.

It was not spectacular or beautiful as she had believed. "You pulled out a GPS when I closed my eyes, didn't you?" Humor was the foundation on which all things were based. Anakin's eyes crinkled at the sides with mirth she had rarely seen as sincere. Then, he frowned. "You closed your eyes?" Padme was taken aback. Hadn't he known?

"Didn't you want to see where I was taking us?" Anakin asked, confusedly. Padme only shook her head and smiled, feeing as if the smile was tight when it should not have been. This would not have been such a hard question to answer, once.

"No," she breathed. "I had faith in you." Anakin's answering smile was as brilliant as the sun neither of them could see.


	3. Trust

"The Cave of seers is sacred to those more in tuned with foresight abilities," Anakin told her as he led the way through the winding curves of the dark cave. The stone shimmered blue like the scales of a fish in some places where the lights from their glow-rods held. Padme touched the rock on the side of them, and determined that it was as smooth as if someone had polished it by hand, and slick with ice.

She shivered. The ceiling was so high she could not see it. The steep ledge they traveled on was thin, rocky. Her hand stayed locked in Anakin's while the other traveled along the smooth curves of the wall next to her. She dared not slip into the formidable crevasse below, for though her black hole was empty, she was sure there was a bottom to that chasm.

"And foresight deals with the Unifying Force, binding past, present and future together, balancing them. But the cave is also revered by people with healing abilities, which is-watch out, there- something that those with the Living Force affinity usually have. Preserving life according to compassion instead of duty," Padme nodded to the lesson that was as old as these caves, and just as grand. The Jedi Order was as antiquated as the idea of liberty itself.

"So why are we here? And where are we going now?" She asked. "This is a place of binding, balance, healing and life. I thought it was fitting. And we're going to a place called 'cave of mirrors,'" he explained.

"Mirrors?" Padme questioned softly, feeling another shiver wrack through her when out of the dim light they had created she saw a spiraling…_Thing _in the darkness, reaching across the hole of despair and danger below. As if it were a long finger pointing to the other side. Anakin shrugged. "Don't look at me. Obi-wan told me all this stuff," he said.

Padme could not bring her stiff lips to smile. Anakin glanced back at her. "Padme?" Her silence was answer enough that she listened, that she lived and breathed and they were here. Perhaps not ready to be so, but it was too late to turn back now.

"Why now? It's been almost two years since…" He did not finish. Padme sighed. Where to begin? How had it begun anyway? It seemed it had been three lifetimes since the night before, since the morning which had been the hated of all mornings. Was it still morning or was this all just a dream? A dream of trying for something that she did not deserve, trying to explain that which had no reasonable explanation?

What was the root of all their problems? The starting point to all problems everywhere? "I don't want to be afraid anymore," yes, fear. That was a good enough start for betrayal, for misunderstanding, it was a good enough reason to stop having faith.

"Afraid of what?" Anakin asked as they reached the spindly thing that Padme had seen a few minutes before. It was a bridge, the wood having been frozen over and picked at by holding the weight of ice. The ropes binding it together were slick and soaking, the way across long and treacherous.

Padme looked up as Anakin stared at the endless gulf as if it were nothing but a sidewalk. "Afraid that one day you will wake up and decide that I'm not worth it," Anakin's eyes snapped to hers, and there was a fire in them that she did not want to try and explain.

"You think this will fix that?" he asked with deadly astuteness. Padme shook her head and avoided his soul reading eyes. "No," she whispered. _I betrayed you. There is no coming back from that. Ever. _"But at least this way, if you do decide that, I'll have tried," _I won't have to let you go without a fight, without taking all of me with you to keep you safe, for I cannot believe anyone would ever want to keep you safe as much as I do. _

Anakin's eyes were kaleidoscopes of confusion, of brokenness, but he cleared his throat and looked away before she could attempt to heal which that she had broken. She had broken the pieces of solid glass into crumbling pieces and now…Now everything was ruined. Anakin should have left a long time ago. But he hadn't, and now she wondered why.

Why was the essential question, wasn't it? "We have to cross this," Padme stared at the wooden bridge, at the endless splintering pieces of it and felt fear seize her again. "Will it hold us?" She asked. Anakin was silent a long moment before inhaling deeply. "Maybe," he said.

The word hung in the air between them, another unknown that was disturbing, something that daunted at the feeble bindings of sanity that they were coming face to face with regularly now. Walking in chilling winds with no way of knowing their direction besides the Force was overwhelming enough, but this…?

_You might lose him._

The fear of losing Anakin surpassed her fear of crossing a bridge, surpassed her fear of death for if he left, if he felt deserted then she would have died already. Anakin was watching her for a reaction. Padme gave him one in full. She smiled slightly.

"We can't turn back now," she said softly, walking ahead. If the bridge cracked beneath her weight, at least it would be her to fall into the darkness below, never to be seen again. At least she would die and he would live as was right, as was_ fair_.

The wood creaked ominously when Padme put one foot down, and she almost pulled it back, but remembering that if she didn't push ahead first then Anakin would, she put the next foot down, letting her hands fall on the thin and soaking ropes to either side.

The wood was slippery. She grounded herself firmly, throwing a flippant grin over at Anakin when the bridge swayed slightly, but did not break. "Be careful," breathed the indescribable man worriedly as she took another step, and then another, eyes glued to the way in front of her. She dared not look to either side and see the massive gap between solid land and her, or down into the hole she would be devoured by should the bridge fail.

_One step at a time. Don't look down; don't think about it,_ her knees began to tremble. Despite the cold, sweat nudged at creases in her body. The glow rods situated on either side of her hip shone dull blue light to the way ahead, as blue as the waters of Naboo where she and Anakin had picnicked, as blue as the skies above them where they had laughed, as blue as the fabric of the dresses she had worn just to impress him so long ago.

Had that only been a few years? Not even a full decade ago that they had fallen in love, so young, so impressionable, so stupidly, blindly unprepared for the future that lied ahead. Padme felt as if she had been a child then, naïve and careless.

She felt like a child _now_, naïve and hopeful. The bridge swayed. She clenched her jaw and moved slower, feeling the solid warmth of Anakin behind her. She could hear his heart thumping in his chest. He was just as scared as she was, though she suspected for different reasons.

After all, he was Jedi. Danger lived at his right shoulder, threat of death _stalked_ him like a loyal dog. Perhaps that was why he had always been bathed in shadows, not because he belonged there, but because he was hiding from the death trailing him.

"Almost there," she_ was_ there, in essence. A few more planks of frozen wood stood in her way, crumbling. She didn't need to step on them. She could jump and make her way there.

With a small squeak, Padme stopped and bent her knees, staring at the black stone that was solid land, that was safety. Relief warred for amazement in her chest. They had made it.

Padme inhaled sharply, about to jump, when a long, creaking groan stopped her dead in her tracks. The next seconds took centuries to complete. Without looking behind her, seeing it in her mind as her ears heard it, the ropes came loose from their bedding in the rocks and snapped one by one.

"Go!" Padme leapt with all her strength as a sudden slackening beneath her feet made her stomach drop. "Umph!" Padme grunted when she landed on the solid rock ground on the other side, swiveling around in time to see the entire bridge collapse into the netherworlds below.

But there was no warmth behind her. Padme paled. Where was Anakin? "Ani?" She gasped, scrambling to the edge of the cliff. "Anakin!" The panic in her voice was not feigned.

Desperately, Padme peered over the edge, scanning the darkness below for any signs of anyone, anything. _Please, don't let this have happened. Not here, not now. Please, don't…_

"I'm here," she jumped, startled, and moved her head at a sharper angle to see Anakin Skywalker hanging by one hand about a foot from where she sat peering over the edge. He had ignited his Lightsaber. It was buried hilt up in the frozen rock of the Cliffside, Anakin hanging limply by one hand.

A thin trickle of blood ran from his temple, and when he looked up his eyes were dazed. He must have hit his head on the rock. Padme frowned worriedly; he most likely had a minor concussion. He would be disorientated and groggy for a few moments or a few hours. Time that they did not have.

Padme could have sobbed in relief that he was just alive. "Ani," she reached a hand down, her fingertips just barely brushing the top of his head. She wanted to touch him, hold him, confirm that he hadn't left her so badly that her heart ached when she could not.

"Are you alright?" Anakin looked up at her with a mixture of alarm and wariness. He was cognizant of his own concussion probably, but that did not mean that his body would respond immediately to the slow commands he tried to give it.

"My foot is caught in a root," Padme gawked at him, swiftly grabbing the glow rod at her waist and waving it down to better see his feet. The rock that held him suspended like a pendulum in time was as slick and polished as the rest of the cave, there would be no footholds or handholds for him to grab unto.

And there, at the edge of the light, was Anakin's foot tangled into a petrified root sticking out of the ice, long dead. Padme was incredulously furious. A root. A blasted root. On a frozen planet that sustained absolutely_ no_ plant life, and his foot had been caught by that of all things.

Impossible. Idiotically impossible, and the quick thought that only in a blasted cave which _the Jedi_ revered would there be something like a frozen root to get caught unto, crossed her mind.

Padme bit back the sharp curse on the edge of her tongue and forced herself to focus. "You can't wiggle your foot free?" She queried, just to make sure, when it was dishearteningly apparent that his foot was not coming out without the root itself being cut off.

Anakin shook his head. He couldn't hang on forever, and the heat from his saber was slowly melting the ice and sliding through the rock. Soon, I would fall out and Anakin would be lost anyway. It was up to Padme to get him out.

_What if I can't?_ After all, there had once been a time she would have thought she'd never betray Anakin's trust and loyalty, and she had. Forget about Anakin, how could she trust _herself_?

If Anakin died because of her, Padme knew that she would never forgive herself, that there would be no stepping back from the brink of insanity. She would always hang there suspended, tethered only by the twins. "Padme," that was Anakin speaking. "Don't worry about it. I'll find a way to get myself out," she let out a breath of a laugh. "You just get out of here. Get away from that ledge," he expected her to leave him? As if she could?

_Well, why not? You did before._ A wave of remorse washed over her. Slowly, Padme sat back on her knees and breathed deeply when her heart gave a jump. What to do? What to do?

_You could lose him. _

The thing she had set out to do, she had to _try._ She had to save this indescribable man who had stolen her heart because so many more than just her would suffer if anything happened to him. Anakin was the Chosen One. He was a father, son, brother, friend, leader, comrade. There were many people she would be letting down with her inability.

When her heart had slowed down, Padme peered back over the hole again, eyes searching. "Not a chance, Anakin," she told him. There had to be something she could use to her advantage… There! In the dim light of Anakin's glow rods she could see a small jut in the otherwise flawless cliff side.

It was slightly to the right of Anakin's foot, too far down for him to reach but with his toes, but close enough for her to stand on and get to the root. She just needed to climb down and get it. Snatching the grappling hook she had thought to bring from her utility belt, Padme looked around for something to stick it too.

"What are you going to do?" Anakin demanded. Padme flinched at the suspicious tone in his voice. Upon catching side of a jutting of stagnates in the ground a few feet behind her, she ran over and positioned the hook between two rocks, making sure it was secure and strapping it to her belt. "Hold on, Anakin," she told her husband when she came back to the edge.

"What are you going to do?" Anakin repeated, his eyes still dazed as he stared at her as if trying to remember her face. "I'm going to lower myself unto that ledge there and untie your foot," after that she had no idea, but those thoughts were for when her first task was done.

Anakin's already large eyes widened more. "No! Padme, you could miss the ledge completely and fall; or it could break under your weight. No, stay there. I'll figure it out," Padme had never been the type of woman to sit back and let anyone figure out something when she could herself. "I have a grappling hook," she replied, pulling at the line to make sure it was secure.

"And if it comes loose?" Was it odd that he still cared? Padme found it very odd that he did. Yet, his worry for her safety made her heart flutter. Perhaps there was hope for them yet. With that knowledge in mind, Padme looked down at him with utter determination. "Anakin," she said softly. "I know what I'm doing," she said.

"No you don't!" How familiar this conversation was. Padme could almost feel Anakin's fear, like a second heart next to her own thumping wildly. "You don't know what could happen!" yes, she did. Because there was only one thing that _would _happen. She would save Anakin, because any other possibility was impossible, unacceptable, uncreatable. She had betrayed him once, she did not intend to let him fall ever again.

_Never again. _

Anakin saw the determination in her eyes, and his own softened with fear and shock. "You would risk everything for me?" Padme smiled thinly.

"You_ are_ everything to me," she breathed, and in her mind added: _and I'm going to prove it. I'll spend the rest of my life proving it if I can. _Then, not giving herself time to think about how stupid this was, she lowered herself over the edge, and felt a drop in the pit of her stomach as she fell one foot…Two feet…

She landed an eternity later, every muscle tensed. Her hands were clenched tight enough to break fingers, resting against the cool edge of the rock. She had bitten her tongue in fright, and her knees trembled, but she stood. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on edge as a cold breeze wafted past her back moaning. The ledge was wide as two people, and longer than her, but Padme did not know how strong it was. She had to hurry.

"Padme?" Anakin called softly from above, sounding alarmed.

"I'm here," she breathed as she leaned forward, seeing Anakin's foot caught a few inches away. Mind racing, Padme avoided looking down (She hated heights, she hated the threat of falling, she hated not being able to control what happened to her) and took out the small ice chipper she had brought.

Quickly nicking at the frozen root, she contemplated how they were going to get back up. The edge of the cliff was too high for Anakin to reach it of his own volition, and there were no handholds for him to use, nor footholds. Should they wait until the Lightsaber had burned through the ice and rock until Anakin was close enough himself to the ledge? Then use the grappling hook to let them both climb out?

"There," the root fell away in chips of ice, crumbling into the chasm Padme dared not look at. "Alright, Anakin, your foot is free. I have an idea," the wind moaned near her face, chilling her nose.

Padme shivered, and slowly turned so that she was staring at the side from which they came…And the chasm. Noting how close it was, how easy it would be for her to slide on the slippery ground and fall, fall, fall… Padme gasped and flinched away.

_Do it for Anakin._

"I need you to let go," if her voice wavered, it was by no fault of hers but the fear which coursed through her veins. "You need me to _what_?" Anakin hissed. "Let go," Padme repeated more confidently this time. "When you let go, you'll fall just past me. I'll grab your hand and pull you unto this ledge too. Then we can both climb out of here using the grappling hook," the plan sounded solid to her, it was the only safe way really, but Anakin's incredulity was easy to hear in his voice.

"What if you don't catch me?" He squeaked indignantly. Padme looked up to meet his eyes. She had wondered that herself a few moments ago but now… Now she knew there was no choice. "I will," she vowed.

"Padme, you're not strong enough to hold me!" Padme's heart cracked at the doubt she saw in his eyes, the fear that she would let him fall and perhaps just a bit of suspicion that she was encouraging him to let go only to let him fall. All was clear to see in those indescribable eyes, and they tore at Padme's heart more than the freezing wind could ever think.

And suddenly she was crashing, tumbling in the winds down the chasm, into the gloom of self-loathing and pain and anger and shame again… Padme inhaled sharply. This was no time to falter herself, because Anakin needed her to be strong. _You could lose him._

"I am strong enough to hold you," she had to believe that. On their wedding night, though she had been a naïve and trusting child she had still been so right, so sure in thinking that she could love this man no matter the boundaries. She could hold him up when the galaxy beat him down because she was _his wife._ Despite the hurt between them, that belief at least had to go unchanged.

It had too.

"No, you aren't! You'll drop me!" Anakin's protest dribbled into painful echoes. He was not afraid to die, he was afraid that his suspicions would turn out to be correct, that Padme would let him down again, that she would let him fall. He was afraid she'd betray him again. Padme did not blame him.

"No, Ani," she whispered, gently squeezing an ankle. "I won't. I know what I'm doing. I trust that everything will turn out alright," a pause. "Do you trust _me_?" Anakin let out a shuddering breath. Padme knew what memories were floating about in his mind, what name had been brought to bear upon the intimacy once so casual between them.

_Jiro._

She squeezed Anakin's ankle again. She had no say in this now; it was his decision, and his battle to be waged. He sighed. "Okay. Are you ready?" Padme nodded and backed away from the ledge's cliff, breathing steadily to stop her racing heart, stilling herself into peace, watching Anakin's every move. She _would not _let him down. It was not a suggestion but a command.

"Go," she heard the Lightsaber disengage. Padme's eyes widened when Anakin slid past in a blur. She had not expected him to fall so fast, but with a dive that surprised her at its violent desperation, she reached out and grabbed two hands, one real and one mechanic by the elbows just as they passed her field of vision.

Anakin swung in her grip dangerously, like a pendulum in a clock. The ice beneath her feet cracked ominously. Padme grit her teeth and pulled. His eyes were locked on hers, calm, aware of the risk. She returned his gaze, determined, grateful for the second chance.

At last, she had pulled him up unto the ledge and into her grip. They did not stop. Fueled by a fear of falling, failing and leaving everything they had known behind, a terror older and more feral than even Yoda, they continued. Anakin latching unto the chord and climbed, Padme seconds behind him.

Adrenaline got both of them to the edge of the Cliffside with aching, trembling limbs. Padme collapsed at Anakin's side as her arms gave out beneath her. They were on solid ground. Their breath hung heavy in the air as they caught it, sitting there still as a mocking reminder of what it was to trust. Padme could have wept in relief. They were safe.

Her arms trembled with cold, and the exertion of pulling him up, and then climbing up herself, but her heart soared. She had done it. She hadn't dropped him. Anakin let out a breath of a laugh by her side, his arms flung out on his back while he stared at the ceiling, eyes shining. "Thanks," he said.

Padme looked up. "You're welcome," She looked into his face, saw the calm, saw in his eyes the relief and gratitude to be alive. She sat back, astounded. Had war so hardened him to these experiences that he no longer felt anything when he went through them _again_? "Weren't you afraid?" She wondered curiously. Anakin gazed at her for a long moment, eyebrow cocked before breaking into slightly hysterical and concussed snickers.

"No, angel," he said when his hysteric laughter abated. "I wasn't. I trusted you."


	4. Sky falling

Padme had read of people who studied the stars, and wondered why they shined amidst darkness, how the moon could be so bright when all around there was only a blanket of black. Oozing, all-consuming black. As a girl, Padme had always supposed that the moon and stars must be very lonely. After all, the sun was king of the sky.

He made everything bright, but the moon…He was just a big fat globe that was choked into slivers and waned into balls when the days passed by the darkness. The stars were twinkling faeries of her childhood books that skittered and played but always went out.

Even stars burned out. And so she and the moon had had something in common, more so than she and the sun. She had been lonely, a seperate pedestal of light in the sky, bright and bold but still…Alone. Solitary, aided only by tiny stars who liked nothing other than to play.

She used to speak to the moon when she was a girl, hoping to abate its loneliness and hers, hoping that one day it might speak back to her. It might tell her why she felt such a deep hollow aching within her chest, why she felt such fear of the shadows. Why the shadows reared up and tried to snatch at her when she was asleep.

The moon must have had all the answers, for it had to be the wisest, didn't it? What was the meaning of life if it only led to death? Why was there ice if it only melted? Why was there sun when it inevitably left, leaving the inhabitants below its light floundering in the dark, crying out "why?"

Despite the fact that Padme had no idea if the moon was out or not- if it were morning, afternoon or night- she found her thoughts going back to a small window on a Naboo homestead where a little girl had looked out and asked these things and received no answer. Padme, in her heart, asked again.

Why did Anakin love her still? _Did_ he love her still? And this throbbing mass in her chest which had first drawn her to this terrible circumstance, how had it been able to love two men at the same time and compared the two as if they were sheep for the barter? What woman compared men like they were _sheep for the barter?_

What was beauty if it was only contrasted by ugliness, if ugliness existed to outdo beauty then why was beauty there? To outshine ugliness? How? Why? What reason was there for the struggle? What was the meaning of it all? Like a child, she asked, and like a child again she gawked at the room Anakin had led her too. She felt the same as she had all those nights and days ago in her room, staring at the moon. She felt as if this place were very lonely, just like her. She felt as if this place had all the answers that she needed, but that it would not speak to her even if she asked.

Especially if she asked.

The cave was one giant mirror. The ice was slick, so much so that her face reflected back to her on all sides, as crystal clear and perfect as a real mirror. In the ceiling above, a small round hole had obviously been carved into the mirroring ice. It was a half circle, sort of. One side was the sun, and the other was the moon. The air was crisp in here, not muffling or biting. Just crisp.

The cavern was huge, massive, elaborate, and beautiful, but it was empty. Waiting patiently. She remembered a story Nava had told her about the Jedi Master being one of the only who could control the Mirroring Force, and with that memory came the reminder to breathe.

"Amazing," she marveled. Anakin folded his hands behind his back and walked to stand next to her.

"Indeed," he breathed. Padme glanced at the bandage on his head to make sure it was still alright. His eyes had cleared from their original dizziness. Padme only hoped it would remain that way.

A new thought struck her. "So…" they were here. There was nowhere else to go, no more obstacles to face. It was morning. "What do we do now?" Anakin's awed expression fell into one of uneasiness.

"Well, we, uh," he rubbed the back of his head. "Do what we came here to do, I suppose," he looked down at her. "We talk about Courascant," Padme exhaled slowly.

_You could lose him. _

She closed her eyes and hugged herself, suddenly feeling very, very much like that little girl. Vulnerable, and afraid and incredibly lonely. The moon was not there to be a witness to her tears. It was not there to assuage her fear with its ever woeful presence. No, this time it was the sun who had come to listen to her questions and give her answers.

The sun that was king of the sky and knew nothing of loneliness or vibrancy among darkness because he filled the atmosphere with his light. He _was _Light. The Chosen One.

Padme sniffled, less because her nose had gone numb from cold and more because she needed to fill the awful silence that descended upon the cave then. They were supposed to be talking, and both of them, the fiery passionate speaker of justice, and loud, impetuous preacher of freedom had gone silent. Obi-wan would call it a miracle.

"Before we start," she whispered, avoiding his eyes. But everywhere she looked, he was there, and she was there. They were surrounded by mirrors. She couldn't look away anymore.

"You shouldn't feel…Like you need to keep anything from me to spare my feelings Anakin," she focused on his real face. "I don't want any more lies or secrets between us. Not now. Alright?" Anakin nodded. "If you do the same, I will," she accepted quietly.

The cave groaned impatiently beneath the weight of the burden it carried. To heal that which had been killed and bind that which had been severed. Finally, arms crossed, Anakin was the first to speak. "Why?" He stated severely. "That's really what's been bothering me, Padme. Why did you pick _him_ over _me_?" Padme exhaled shakily. Here they went.

"I didn't mean too," she offered as thin consolation, it sounded shallow even to her own ears. "At first, he was just a friend. Just someone who I could talk too about politics… And then, when you were away at work, he became a confidant. He just seemed so…So…" Padme looked for the right word, disgusted at the thought that Jiro had even seemed likeable to her, that he had even been considered as comparable to Anakin.

"Much nicer. I respected his opinion, I valued his advice. I trusted him. I found myself telling him things I wouldn't tell you because I didn't want to worry you or because it was just _easier_ to talk to him," Anakin's face scrunched in anger. "Why?" He snapped.

Padme shifted, shame running tight circles of agony around and around her heart, constricting it, tightening until she was almost gasping for breath through clenched teeth. She shrugged, feeling the tips of her ears grow hot. "He agreed with me," she had promised him honesty, and this was it. She had been selfish. She had been selfish, vain, and so very, _very_ stupid.

"No matter what, it just always seemed like Jiro was on my side, or at least a voice of reason when he wasn't. He always managed to calm me down, or cheer me up. He always knew what to say. And when we started fighting, then I _needed_ that. He made me feel safe," the muscles of the sun stiffened as if cold water had been dumped upon the enormous heat and jolted it.

"Safe from me?" demanded the king, eyes flashing. "Safe from the way you made me feel," Padme corrected. "Every fight, every nasty word, every second we spent in disagreement… You have to know it hurt me as much as it did you, Anakin. And with the circumstances surrounding our marriage," the Jedi Code, her career, his duty, their responsibilities and roles in society, "we hadn't gotten a lot of time spent living together. All the time," she smiled bitterly.

"Ever since we got married, we've seen each other in spurts and bits. We had never had time for a real fight before. Never had time to really disagree on anything because we never had time to just _talk._ It was always a few stolen hours before you were off again or I had a meeting or _something_," Anakin's face hardened with shared anger.

"So when we actually did live together, and we started fighting all the time, I was scared. I thought maybe that spark we had when we first met was just…Gone. Somewhere along the way we had forgotten it somewhere," she looked over, and saw in the mirror Anakin's identical expression.

His shoulders slumped. "I felt the same," he whispered. Padme nodded. "It didn't help that you befriended Shantra," now was the time for her to be sheepish. "When I first saw you with her, it was late at night. I came home to see you dancing in the living room with the twins and her," Anakin's eyes widened in recollection at the memory.

"I didn't know you were there!" he cried. "My point exactly," Padme said dryly. "Since we had been fighting, I thought… Maybe you'd found someone better. It made me angry," she explained.

"You were jealous," Anakin summed up, in an expressionless tone. Padme sighed and reached up to fiddle with the bun her hair was in, staring into the face of the mirror instead of the man. It was easier to talk to a wall. "Jiro made me forget that," she continued.

"Padme," Anakin also spoke to the wall. The voices echoed back to them. "Shantra was a friend. Surely you know that….?" She twisted her lips into a thin line, feeling her heart squeeze in anger and hurt that was not all a memory. Most of it was still there, would always be there probably. "You felt_ nothing_ for her?" She wondered seriously. "Nothing at all?"

He gazed into her reflection earnestly. "Of course not. I've never wanted anyone but you," Padme's heart seized. She pressed her lips together as hot tears pricked her eyes. "It was my own insecurity, then," she decided ashamedly. She had believed that Anakin harbored some feeling, if not only as a tiny bit of attraction towards Shantra, but…He couldn't lie with a face so open. He never had.

"Have I ever given you reason to doubt?" Anakin demanded. Padme looked at her feet. She was not sure if it had any relevance, but doubt had always been there. In war, doubt was never far away.

"I would…Hear stories. From other women whose husbands were away. And I used to wonder when I was alone in my apartment during the Clone Wars, of you out there fighting. I used to wonder who you'd meet and the horrors you would face. I wondered if you would need a woman one night, and hated that I couldn't be there those times," Anakin stared at her reflection, confusion written clearly on his face until he realized what she was talking about. "You don't think I…?" He gasped.

Padme shook her head, anxious. "I didn't know. I only hoped that whoever she was, wherever you were, she would be kind to you. That she would not judge you or begrudge you a night… I prayed she would take care of you for me," she confessed.

Padme jumped when suddenly strong hands grabbed her by the arms hard enough to cause bruising later and twirled her around to face him. Anakin studied her face with his eyes as if he could hardly believe that she had been the one to say that.

"I never did that," he said softly. Padme was surprised. "_Never_?" She gasped. "Because I understood, Ani….Hells, I _understand_. I didn't hate you for it. I just hoped you wouldn't feel guilty, or that she would be kind to you. I thought maybe Shantra had been one of those women, and you had found out later that you had…Feelings for her. Or something," all the stories.

Force above, so many stories Padme had heard from other heartbroken wives who had whispered the shamefaced tales of their husbands. They had lamented their inability to be there, to help and heal and guide, had expressed their want for there to be _someone_ if they could not be.

Anakin studied her eyes for confirmation that she had actually believed that before slowly shaking his head in disbelief. "Padme, I swear to you I have _never _done anything like that. I know what you're talking about. I know many honorable men who just couldn't…They _had _too. But I never have. For one: Obi-wan would have had my _hide, _not to mention Ahsoka, and two: I just could never see anyone else like that but you," he breathed.

Padme stared at him as if he had spoken another language. She had wondered and worried all those nights for nothing? She had cried herself to sleep all those nights for absolutely nothing? _I was afraid for nothing_

"And you couldn't have_ told_ me that?" She gasped at last, the memories of that sincere pain rifling through the pages of her heart again, rippling delicate papers as it went. All the pain she could have avoided if only Anakin had opened his blasted mouth and told her that she had no reason to fear for him, no reason to fear for_ them…_

"I never knew you thought things like that, Padme! I can't even_ believe_ you doubted me that way!" Anakin responded in turn, releasing her arms to once more stare at her as if she were an apparition of someone he couldn't recall ever having seen before.

"How could I not, Anakin? You never talked to me about the things you saw or experienced! I thought it was because you did with someone else!" Padme said back, her anger rising. She could not believe that she was so patent in the courtroom, managing to hold her tongue for hours on end with the other senators and yet when it came to _this_ man, he seemed to infuriate her faster than any person had ever been able. He controlled her so efficiently as to make her forget everything but him.

Anakin's eyes flashed again, temper rising to meet her own. "And what was I supposed to tell you? That I had seen killing, that I had planned killing, that I _was _a killer? You'd have stared at me like I was a monster!" he accused.

Padme wheeled backwards, stunned. "That's what you thought?" she demanded as hurt buzzed through her as hot as lightning and with a shock that reverberated with the power of thunder.

"Ani, you're my _best friend_! I have never doubted your goodness! If I were so naïve as to not know what happens during war, then why in all the worlds did I not flinch away when you killed the sand people?" She demanded hotly. Anakin stared deeply into her eyes, and Padme had a fleeting thought that she had seen them before in the stars watching over her as a girl.

"You have _always_ feared me," he growled fiercely, disabusing her of both fleeting thought and all rationality. "You just started voicing it when you thought your own interests were at stake!" This was wrong, this was not talking, this was _arguing,_ and Padme knew it. Yet the anger and hurt that raced through her did not care.

She drew herself up, and stared Anakin Skywalker dead in his azure eyes which were supposed to be the eyes of a hero, of a champion. Not a broken and bleeding gash.

"I have feared the anger inside your heart," she said with deadly calm. "But never _you,_ Anakin. Just as you have always hated how dedicated I am to a Republic, but not me," not until that night, at least. "I do not hate your dedication, Padme, I hate your blind following of the Republic at the risk of our relationship!" Anakin sneered. Their voices, once controlled and reasonable, had grown to yelling.

The walls shook. Padme ignored it. "Oh? Sort of like when you asked me to blindly follow you through a _snowstorm _at the risk of my life?" She wondered sarcastically, fuming.

"I was following the Force! I _know_ that is right!" Anakin snapped.

"Well, I'm following what I believe! I know that is right, too!"

"Obviously not if it led to us spending less time together so that we could actually_ talk_ so you didn't doubt my integrity!"

"Well, the Force doesn't seem to _will_ us a lot of time, does it? Especially the time we need to sit down and have an _adult_ conversation instead of doubting how much I can understand!"

"Don't blame the Force for that, Padme!" Anakin spat. "It _is _your fault! If you had just stopped trying to be the perfect politician I never would have doubted you!" The walls rumbled like the growling of a giant animal.

Padme snorted. "You can't push this on me!" She replied sharply. "If you had stopped trying to be a hot shot hero, I never would have doubted _you_!" She shouted. Anakin was heaving with anger. Padme felt her eyes tingle with ire.

Tears ran down her face. She hadn't meant for it to be this way, but that was another problem of theirs, was it not? Nothing ever went according to plan with them. Ever. And love was no better because it hurt, it hurt and stung and it made them angry at the unfairness of it all.

Anakin's eyes were filled with tears as he stared at her with such rage, such furious _hatred_ that she knew he had been hiding it inside himself all this time, and some of it was not from her. She had just never seen it, not until these moments when he showed her his ire.

This was what Padme feared, not Anakin Skywalker, but the anger inside him. She took a step back when he took a step forward, realizing that things had gotten out of control. Again. Anakin's next words gutted the breath from her lungs and made her heart weep from the choked out pain he held in every syllable.

"You _betrayed_ me! I have never been anything but loyal to you and you LET ME DOWN!" Anakin screamed at last his grievance, his voice ringing back to her in vibrant echoes, so that it pressed wave upon wave of agony into her heart because it was harder to accept than to deny, it was harder to face than to hide. And with her own face staring at her, she could no longer deny it. Evil often had a human face.

And this time it was hers.

She had betrayed him. She had let him down. _She _was the reason hints of gold flashed in otherwise azure eyes. Padme's shoulders slumped in defeat. It was true. "I know," she whispered. The weight of their tragedy was louder than their voices. It broke the balance.

_CRACK. _

That sound shocked them both into silence. Slowly, terrified of what she would see, Padme looked up. There was a long tear running in a straight, jagged line between her and Anakin growing on the ceiling. A few pebbles of ice fell, rumbling. For once on this journey; Padme knew exactly what was going to happen next.

Her eyes met Anakin's for a split second, the same thought crossing their minds as the other's name was ripped from their throats in unison. It was at that second that the sky fell down.


	5. Mirror graveyard

Padme woke in the silky darkness which precludes a slow awakening. Groggily, bones aching she managed to raise her head. _What happened?_ Her head felt heavier than she remembered it being. There was something sticky and warm on her arm-a cut. Blood. It pulsed and trickled down her arm, tickling the sore skin as it went.

Padme gently touched the laceration with the fingertips of her other arm, closing her eyes against the dizziness that suddenly assaulted her. When the blood roaring in her ears had silenced itself, then she managed to open her eyes. Padme's eyes widened when she realized where she was, what she had done. A small gasp escaped her lips.

The room was a graveyard of mirrors. Shattered pieces of the beautiful ice that had once shown reflections of herself laid all around in her in small and large aculeated pieces.

Because of this, the reflections had been distorted. Long figures, short and plump, obnoxious and deformed pictures of herself surrounded her mercilessly mocking. Caricatures of the smooth and unchangeable figures she had seen before, when this cave was whole, when it was the sacred place that it was meant to be.

Before her.

They rested around, enclosing her in a cave half the size of the one that she had stood in before. One of her glow rods was broken. Dim blue light from the other barely illuminated two feet ahead of her, but it gave enough light for her to see what she had done. To see herself for who she was.

_Breaking a mirror is seven years bad luck. _

"What have I done?" Padme whispered, saddened by the destruction of something once so beautiful, so amazing, so sacred to the Jedi. Obi-wan was going to_ kill_ them when he found out, and if the Council didn't like Anakin now…

_Anakin. _

She shot bolt upright, ignoring the tingle of pain shooting through her nerves. Alarm and panic took precedence over pain. She had to find him. They had not come all this way just to be crushed by a cave. "Ani?" Padme gasped, scrambling to her feet.

She swiveled around. "Anakin!" the call echoed back to her. Padme covered her ears as the faces glared and smiled and sneered at her from every direction. Her eyes sought another living being. He wasn't there.

_He is not there. _

"Anakin! Anakin, can you hear me?" Padme ran to the chilled walls, screaming at them, banging against the cold exterior angrily, her mind refusing to believe that Anakin Skywalker, hero of the Clone Wars, the indescribable shadow, the Chosen One, the Sun, was to be extinguished by a_ cave-in_.

He couldn't die here, on Ilum, not even before the battle had been won. This wasn't glorious! This wasn't right. He could not leave her alone. He was everything to her. Padme's hands bled, she disregarded the way her fingers cracked as she continued to punch and kick at the walls, screaming Anakin's name. The mangled bones of her fingers went overlooked. The blood seeping between her flesh was unheeded.

A single mantra repeated itself over and over, a forever stamp of failure upon her conscious that it even needed be spoken. _She had to find Anakin. She had to get Anakin. _He should already be with her. He should never leave her. She shouldn't have lost him.

She screamed until her voice had gone hoarse, she shouted until her voice gave out and her brain finally came to the same conclusion that her broken heart wouldn't admit.

_He isn't there. _

Padme had feared losing him above all things, she had feared it so much that she had brought him here, she had braved through these stupid trials the universe had thrown at them to keep him…And lost him anyway. She had lost him in her mission to keep him. After _all this,_ she had lost him anyway.

Her legs gave out from beneath her. All the anger she had felt previous at him, the hurt and jealousy faded until it was but a distant rebound of the strong and powerful surge. Padme sunk to her knees lifelessly, pressing a hand to her mouth to muffle the sobs that tore themselves from her throat and the tears leaking from her eyes.

"Anakin," she gasped, in denial. "No, he can't be gone," her eyes darted from corner to corner but all that stared back at her were the eyes of her caricatures, ugly and deformed, as silent as masks.

Horrifying demons finally brought to light. "He can't be gone just like that, can he?" She asked herself, because he had been right in front of her a moment earlier. Enraged and looking very much like he had wanted to hit her, but alive. No one could vanish so fast.

Padme would have gladly taken the strike if it meant he could be there now. "He can't just…_Go._ After everything we did to get here he can't just go. It can't end like this! This isn't right, this isn't the way it was supposed to be!" _This isn't what I wanted._ But the universe, as she should have already learned too many kriffing times, never did what she wanted.

Her breast quivered. Padme closed her eyes as the universe tipped to the side, as if it were a rocking boat, as if now were the moment when the heavens would explode and the stars would twinkle out, their games having been played. The moon would be engulfed by the unfilled obscurity all around.

And Padme realized that she had never been the moon, lonely, bright, whittled away and wise, but the nightfall. The empty, devouring darkness, and there was no sun to chase away the hollowness. She had killed it. It could never be morning again.

She destroyed the sun.

"No," anger swept into her, hot as the Tatooine deserts.

"No, no!" Sadness bit into her skin like the winds of Ilum's landscape.

"No, please!" Sobs suddenly rocked her body into curling in on itself, like the bridge had curled in on itself before snapping and plummeting away into the chasm.

"Please, no! Anakin!" And the nerves in her deadened and broken fingers rumbled when she slammed them against the cold rock, as the cave had rumbled in Anakin's last moments.

Padme wept. Ebullition descended upon her, sending more and more _emotion _until she was overwhelmed, until she couldn't breathe past the fire in her soul and the heat of it burned her lungs into crisps. She sobbed until rivers flowed from her eyes and she could not open them because the tears burned, they were hot and they hurt. Everything hurt.

The words she had spoken-yelled, taunted, screamed-at him recorded in her head as if the echoes were still going. There was so much that she had wanted to say during this trip, so much she had wanted apologize for… And it hadn't happened. Anakin had heard none of it from her. Padme couldn't believe that she of all people would have dared to say such things to him. What person said such things to the man they supposedly loved?

"But you never did deserve my love, did you?" _what?_ Padme gasped and looked up, tears streaking down her face. Above her stood Anakin Skywalker, though not the flesh and blood one she knew.

He was glowing a faint blue color, like a hologram, and he stared down at her with cold, hard eyes and arms crossed. There was no knowing smirk on his lips; no cute twinkle in his eyes, there was no affection on his face. Just coldness, just aloof indifference, as if she were an insect he could crush with his boot.

Padme sobbed, wondering if she were hallucinating. Or perhaps…? "Are you here to say goodbye?" She asked softly. _So soon? Please, I can't let you leave me now. Not now…_

Anakin laughed callously. "Goodbye? More of good riddance, senator. Besides, I'm a hot shot hero, remember? I couldn't just leave you here without a way out," he said, and with a gesture of his hand the ice to Padme's right frosted over, and then trickled away until only a thin layer of it remained.

"I can't get through that," Padme pointed out indifferently. The ice, though now she was able to see through it to the other side, was too thick for her to get through. She didn't particularly want to get out anyway. Maybe she would freeze here. Maybe she could die too. The ghost shrugged, smiling devilishly.

"Oops," he supposed. "Not the hot shot hero after all, am I? Sorry about that," he sounded distinctly_ not_ sorry. Padme did not care. He could be angry as long as he stayed. She gazed up at him, drinking in the features of the man she loved more than life, taking in the fact that she would never see them again.

"But don't worry Padme, I won't let you die alone," Anakin assured her as he knelt at her side. Padme watched insensibly as he reached a ghostly hand out, and gently took her chin in his fingers. His touch was freezing cold. "I will stay and watch over you," the innocently sweet expression he had turned sour with cold loathing.

"Until the ice comes and freezes over your black heart and the time rots away your bones," he finished darkly. Padme stared at him with trembling lips. She was not afraid. She just…Wanted him to stay. She needed him to stay.

"You really hate me that much?" She whispered brokenly. Anakin narrowed his eyes.

"Whatever gave you the idea I loved you in the first place?" he queried neutrally. Padme felt as if a hole had opened up beneath her and swallowed her into its depths. Her stomach dropped. "You_ do_ love me," she blurted, sounding very much like a child informing his parent that yes, the man who gave presents at the winter solstice _was _real.

Anakin smacked her.

Padme gasped as she felt tingles of ice along her cheek, and then a dull throbbing as the skin bruised, turning red. Anakin stood above her as her hands went to her cheek. Shocked, Padme looked up at this apparition? Had he just… How could he..? Tears filled her eyes. _He never hit me before_.

"How could I ever love such a selfish and vain creature?" Anakin inquired softly. "When I could have any other woman in the galaxy, why would I choose _you,_ Padme? I loved the way you made me feel," he shrugged.

"Special, privileged, superior. After all, I always did like the exotic. I love a challenge," he smiled, teeth flashing white in the dim blueness of her light.

She gawked at him, heart constricting in her chest until she was sure it would explode. He couldn't mean that. He was just angry. Padme knew love when she saw it.

She knew affection and care and tenderness when she saw it, she had felt it before, and not just romantic love either. The love that she had for the twins, the Republic, her family and friends, there was no faking that. There was no deceit in the way Anakin had felt about her.

And nothing-not even the angry spirit of her husband-could change what she_ knew_ was true. "If you never cared about me, you wouldn't have saved my life countless times. You wouldn't have given me two children," she replied shakily. "You wouldn't have come with me at all," she finished.

Anakin glared at her and raised a hand again. Padme met his eyes, unflinchingly. He lowered the hand, eyes stuck to hers.

He seemed surprised that she still gazed at him with something close to warmth. Only stronger. "You aren't afraid of me?" He asked. Padme shook her head, realizing that she was still on her knees before him. The sign of humility, somehow, did not bother her.

Anakin had always owned her anyway, owned her heart. She had never given its service to anyone else. Never wanted too. She had told Anakin she had faith in him, that extended even beyond the grave.

"I have never doubted your goodness," Padme replied evenly. "If you need to strike me, then I deserve it," it was a well-established fact. Anakin had only ever cared for the people he loved. He would rather have died than hurt her, so if she did force his hand, then it was only right whatever punishment he saw fit. Padme saw shock in his eyes, and fleetingly noted that she was a bit surprised herself at the utmost trust she had in Anakin's judgment.

Never, not for anyone had she bowed. Never for anyone would she_ stay_ on her knees, injured or not. She had bowed before the Gungan leader a long time ago, begging for the lives of her people. But that had been different. She had still been a queen when she stood. She had still been invincible.

Once, Padme would have said it was a sign of disrespect for anyone to expect her to bow before them, but now, she knew differently. Even if Anakin called her up, Padme would not. This was the last time she saw him, perhaps the last moment of life she had. She was trapped here after all. Pretty soon the cave would fall in all the way or she would freeze.

If she couldn't tell him all that she had wanted to say, then she could at least have the decency to show him that she was, and forever had been, _his._ All of her was his, she was as dependent upon his heart as he was upon her own. That was what love was, co-dependence, humility, sharing, it was good and_ forgiving_. Not jealous, angry or vengeful. Even as he was cruel, even as he was angry, even when he was petty she still wanted to be _his,_ she still wanted _him._

It made absolutely no sense.

Anakin's eyes softened. "You would submit yourself to me in that way?" the words were whispered. Padme didn't hesitate. "I always have," Anakin's spirit hovered in front of her for a long stretch of time, watching her, searching her eyes for any sign at all that she was lying. And when he found none, he smiled.

"Then we are bound," he decided, and like a ripple in a pond, the layers of meaning shivered in the air. The broken mirrors around her frosted over, hiding her own hideous caricatures from her. Padme wondered what that meant but before she could ask, Anakin faded away.

"No!" She lunged for him, but he was gone. Padme looked up, around, and then sighed reluctantly. It was not as if he could stay. He was dead. She had long lost him, and it was not as if she would not be joining him in a moment all the same. It was not as if there were anything that could keep them apart when they were in death. "I'll follow you," she whispered to the loneliness around her, the cold hollow walls of this sacred cave. "I'll follow you Anakin, through any windstorm, across any bridge… Even into the plains of death, I'll go with you," and she would. Now, she only had to wait.

This being Padme's only consolation, she looked down at her bloodied hands, mangled beneath the gloves, and cringed. She was feeling the throbbing agony now, after the sorrow had died away into acceptance. Groaning, Padme saw dots swim before her eyes.

She shuddered, and collapsed limply unto her back, hands flown to the wind, arms outstretched on either side of her. _Whatever happens, happens. Whatever may be, will be, _she thought dazedly as she stared at the dark surface of the mirrors.

They were reflecting her real face now. Padme hardly recognized the face she saw staring back at her. It looked almost other worldly. In the dim blue light, she looked half a ghost herself.

She was still crying, though her face had gone numb. She couldn't see her own tears. And her brown eyes were pools of misery and sorrow, but her face was calm. Accepting, almost _resigned._ She had never given up before, and some part of her knew that Anakin probably wouldn't want her to just _sit_ there and wait to die.

A large part-the fiery senator part- didn't want too, but the stronger part-the doting wife part- knew the truth, and for once her mind and heart had reconciled themselves, in this her last moment. Anakin meant everything to her.

If she _somehow_ left this cave alive, she would be a walking husk of something that once was, her soul floated away into the confines of memories, her heart wilted into a dead petal, hanging unto its stalk by the tiniest threat of its original fiber. No. she would be no good to anyone or anything like that.

Padme Amidala then shut out the world with a flutter of her crystalized lashes, and waited to become one with the ice.

It might have been moments or hours later when she opened her eyes again, slowly. There were small icicles on her eyelashes, as small and delicate as dewdrops. Her lips were chapped and dry with cold, but she could still feel her breath warming her upper lips.

She was breathing, alive. The rest of her body was numb, but responsive. In the mirror above, she saw splotches of red beneath her hands. She couldn't feel any one of her limbs. _Why did I open my eyes?_ Something had called to her.

_ "__Padme,"_ there it was again. The voice was soft, feminine, and hardened with years of playing a woman of authority, years of being pampered and given daily responsibilities of a queen.

Padme slowly moved that thing she was pretty sure was called neck until she came face to face with the hem of a skirt. Her eyes traveled upwards, and saw a familiar face, outlined in blue, as other worldly as Anakin had been. Her old friend smiled.

"Sabe," the croak came from her mouth. Sabe knelt next to her, her large brown eyes compassionate as Padme remembered them. She had missed this woman, who had been like a sister to her, even as she played imposter. _"You have to hold on, Padme,"_ Sabe told her gently.

Padme stared at her friend, trying to understand through the fog her mind had retreated into just why in all the kriff she would want to do that. Sabe seemed to read the question on her face. She smiled again; and Padme could not recall her friend looking any more peaceful than she did then. Any happier.

_"__It is not time for you to let go,"_ Sabe explained. Padme wanted to shake her head, but she was devoid of energy. Instead, she only croaked "Anakin," As feeble explanation.

Sabe made an exasperated, fond noise in the back of her throat_ "has much to do, and there is much more for you two to accomplish. You see Padme, you too are part of the Prophecy." _What prophecy? Padme wasn't aware that there were any…

The prophecy of the Chosen One.

She was part of _that _prophecy? She wasn't even a Jedi! She was just…Padme. She was soiled, a betrayer. She was dying and frankly, she would rather stick to that plan. Sabe heard the unspoken sentiment, and nodded.

_ "__Your modesty has never suited you, milady,"_ her former servant said with a small laugh. _"All life, no matter how small, is connected. People come into our lives and stay there because they are meant to be there. It has __**never **__been an accident that you met Anakin Skywalker,"_ well, Padme knew that.

She had known it that night that Anakin had told _her "it could be a secret," _that they were meant to be together, that it was destined. Mostly because she had been thinking the exact same thing as Anakin had. But she was relatively sure Sabe did not meant it in quite the same way, These ghosts never did.

Indeed, her old friend went on. _"You are a Seraph of the Light, Padme,"_ she told her._ "As has been your purpose- the fate of many- since the dawn of time. You are the one who will bring not only Anakin to his destiny, but the twins to theirs," _the _twins_ had a prophecy now?

_ "__Everything you have done is towards this goal,"_ Padme couldn't believe what she was hearing. Sabe thought that she was a… No. It wasn't true. It couldn't be… Could it?

"I've… Made…So many…mistakes," she breathed in denial, her lungs burning at each gulp of air that she took. She had been breathing shallowly for too long. Sabe's gaze was full of such tender, loving light that Padme wondered if she had any business possessing such love from anyone. "Hurt…So many…People," she gasped out, and a pang of guilt hit her heart in its sensitive corners. _Anakin. The twins. Herself. The galaxy. _

Sabe nodded. _"You have,"_ she agreed. "_But remember this: none of us are judged on what we have given, or what we have gained, even what we have done, but __**who we are. **__A sword must be put through fire to be forged," _Padme understood none of this. She felt a tear-the first in a long time-run down her cheek as her heart quivered in her chest. She just wanted the pain to end.

_ "__Hush."_ Sabe tsked her, standing. _"The battle has yet to fully begin, Padme. It isn't yet morning. Be ready when it is. Be ready for the end. I believe in you,"_ Padme wanted to call Sabe back, wanted to ask more questions, demand answers, know why the Force had chosen her of all people to be a seraph when there were those so much more suited to the task… But with a final smile, Sabe vanished. Padme was once again alone.

Her eyes returned to the ceiling, and if Padme had been able to move, she would have screamed aloud. As it was, her heart skipped a beat when she saw in the mirror above her a scene playing out, like a holo-movie.

Above her, around her, the same scene played, and Padme watched it, astounded as a small six year old boy grabbed the hand of his mother and yanked excitedly in the Tatooine afternoon. _"Mom, mom, look at this ship!" Anakin cried in his shrill, excited voice as he pointed to the massive merchant's ship that they passed. Shmi smiled peacefully._

_ "__I see it Anakin," she replied with a chuckle. "I want to pilot it! Can we ask, mom?" Shmi's face dropped. "No, Anakin," she whispered, tugging Anakin past the ship hurriedly, as if the sight of it was hurting her heart. "No, we aren't allowed," she said._

_ "__Why not, mom? I've seen other boys do it! I know I can!" Anakin yelled, looking over his shoulder, young eyes filled with disappointment and confusion. Shim stopped at his question, anguish and reluctance coloring her face, Anakin noticed. He stopped beside her, dirty face confused. "Mom?" He queried softly, tugging at her hand. _

_ "__We can't, Anakin, because we're slaves," Shmi answered. Anakin's intelligent blue eyes sharpened, eager to learn something more about the worlds around him. "What does that mean?" He wondered. Shmi stared at the sand beneath her feet, face screwed into disgust. _

_ "__It means that in the eyes of everyone else in this galaxy, my Ani…We are nothing," Shmi looked up, and there were tears in her eyes as she gestured to the ground "Nothing but the dirt beneath their feet." _

Padme gasped as her attention was ripped from the scene of a six year old Anakin's life, and directed to the other splintered mirrors around her. They no more showed caricatures of herself, were no longer misted over into ambiguousness. Now, they showed scenes from the life of her husband. Some that she knew, some that she did not, some were of when he was young, others when he was a Padawan and a Knight.

She saw familiar faces, and then heard names that she had never before heard Anakin speak of. She saw the monstrosities of war through her husband's eyes, and felt his ire. She saw his mother's last breaths, and wept with him.

Surrounding her on all sides were these images and recordings of a memory not her own, a revealing of a mind that she had come to love and cherish but had never really understood. Until now.

She had wanted Anakin to talk to her, to tell her what he saw and felt-and now she was getting her wish in complete. Padme's eyes darted from mirror to mirror, soaking in the moments of her husband's life as a weary traveler gulped down platefuls of food, letting the emotions flow and out of her like a rampaging tsunami, ripping apart her own conscience and self until she was no more, until she was living these images and these scenes.

She_ was_ Anakin.

They had been made one in body, but now they were one in mind and soul. Anakin had trusted her with his life, she had and faith in his word, but now… Now the real battle-the only battle, some might say-had begun. She had to learn to have faith in _what he was_, in what the mirrors showed her.

_ "__Why are we slaves, mom?"_

_ "__Are you an angel?" _

_ "__What does your heart tell you?"_

_ "__Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-wan Kenobi,"_

_ "__I hope we meet again, Anakin."_

_ "__Qui-gon told me to stay in this cock-pit and that's what I'm going to do!"_

_ "__You will be a Jedi, I promise." _

_ "__I haven't seen you this nervous since we fell into that nest of Gundarks,"_

_ "__Ani! Ani is that __**you**__?"_

_ "__I don't think she likes me watching her."_

_ "__You're making fun of me."_

_ "__Mom. Mom. It's alright. I've got you now."_

_ "__Don't be afraid."_

_ "__I was beginning to wonder if you'd got my message,"_

_ "__I __**am **__a slow learner."_

_ "__I love you Padme…"_

And then came the hardest part, the moment she had dreaded with every fiber of her being, and yet was unable to stop now. Then came Courascant. It played before her eyes, slowly, letting every second become an eternity, ripping her heart out again and again with words and whispers and idiocy. Padme watched, unflinching, as she lived through her own betrayal with Anakin's heart in her chest.

She watched as she stabbed him in his soul, felt the gut-wrenching agony of abandonment by the one that you loved most, and trusted more than anyone. She saw the regret, and felt the anger that threatened to tear him apart, the hand that he had outstretched, and that she had smacked away.

She felt the pity and compassion he felt for her when her baby died, and witnessed him weeping, her own heart close to the breaking point, when she left with Jiro. She saw herself come back, and the relief that it might be over was enormous.

If only it had ended there. If only things didn't keep hurting, spinning further into the whirlpool of no return, forever and ever.


	6. Balance

When Padme returned to herself from the plains of memories, and the internal spirit of her husband, she was weeping. The mirrors around her had gone dark again, smothered by their own exhaustion as they faded into ice once more. The cave had done its duty. She had seen it all. Every moment, every second in high definition of what her husband and friend had suffered in his life, since the first breath he had breathed.

_He loved me,_ Padme thought, as the tears of pure and utter shame spilled down her cheeks.

She was choking on her own sobs, and the feeling felt familiar. Probably because Anakin had choked on his own sobs-sometimes mixed with blood-many times when she had not been looking.

_He loved me so much._ She had never imagined anyone could love her as much as she had ever loved Anakin, she had doubted even he could understand the depths of her love, but no. Anakin had quite understood. He had matched it actually. He had cared for her in so deep a way Padme knew that it was impossible to find another who could compare.

And she had lost him.

He had been through so much, born too much pain-his only consolation being to see her. He had suffered through so much alone, had carried too great a burden. For once, for the _first time_ in their marriage, Padme _understood _what it was to be Anakin Skywalker. She could define him now_ when it was too late_.

_Light. _

That and that alone was the man who had loved her. Anakin had only ever been Light. Her sobs carried into a trance-like state of sated sorrow. She was no longer a black hole, sucking everything into her and remaining empty. Now she was full. Full of hurt and distress for the man she had loved. The man she had lost.

**_Later:_**

The stars themselves would have stilled by then if it was night, and morning would have passed the snow swept plains over thrice, if it had ever passed in the first place. It was then, when time itself had no meaning, that the healing begun. Padme's head throbbed with headache. She stared lifelessly at the ceiling, remembering Anakin, remembering the life he had lived. The amazing man he had been. And wishing for nothing more than to hold him a last time.

_You haven't lost him._ No sooner had the random thought crossed her mind than she heard a small, hoarse voice call out "Padme?!" And her heart roared into life from its mordantly tired beating, suddenly nearly jumping out of her chest in shock. Padme felt air rush into her lungs, creating a gasp.

"Padme?" The voice was husky. "Are you there? Can you hear me?" The sound of someone banging fists against something hard, like tapping on the glass of a fish bowl. "Padme, come on! Answer _me_!" It was command and plea both. Padme could not disobey, not when it sounded so much like him.

Slowly, the muscles in her neck straining, she looked up. To the wall ahead of her, the one that had been frosted over so that she could see through it, an acquainted face stared back at her, his own skin tinted slightly blue, but very much alive.

When he saw her looking at him, his anxious, grief-stricken features blossomed into relief and joy. "Padme!" he breathed, voice muffled by the thick ice. He banged on it again. "Padme, are you alright? Can you hear me?" He asked hurriedly.

Padme blinked at this apparition confusedly. Was Anakin back to haunt her again? But no, he did not look like a holo-gram as he had the last time. He was breathing, she could see the breath hanging in the air. Did ghosts breathe? Sabe hadn't.

Sabe.

"_Has much to do, and there is much more for you two to accomplish." _Sabe had said has. Present tense. She had told Padme that she was part of the prophecy meant to bring Anakin to his destiny. Future tense. Not past tense; and Sabe had never, ever lied to her. Which meant that…

_ "__Anakin!"_ the name was yanked from her mouth as swiftly and violently as if it had been connected to a string down in her stomach. Padme's limbs suddenly burned with life as she scrambled up, ignoring the way the world tipped ominously as she quickly got to her hands and knees.

The headache behind her temples exploded, but Padme didn't care. Gasping because her tears had run dry, she desperately lunged for the ice, and landed against it with a thunk. Padme reached out, staring at Anakin hopefully. Was it true? Was it him? He was _alive?_

"Are you there?" She gasped quietly, on her knees. "Are you real?" Anakin nodded quickly, also pressed against the ice as he banged fists against it desperately. His eyes were locked unto Padme's. "I'm here," she heard a muffled sob. "I'm _real,_ Padme," His voice sounded hoarse, as if he had been weeping. The very thought caused a shoot of panic to rip through Padme.

"What's wrong?" She demanded at once anxiously. Anakin smiled. His face was wet with tears. "I-I thought you were dead. I thought I had lost you. I had just given up hope, Force…I've been searching for so long Padme," he explained. It was him. Only _he_ could sound so sincerely melancholy about her death. Only he could stare at her as if no one else in the galaxy existed. Padme would have sobbed anew if her tears had not gone dry, and her chest already aching with too much pain for there to be more.

"Are you alright?" She asked then, smiling joyously. She hadn't lost him. It almost felt as if a dream had fallen over her. Was she dreaming? Had the ice actually covered her face and locked her in her own internal dreaming? Had she become a snowflake, gently shimmering to the ground in a daze of unreality?

"I'm fine. You?" Anakin replied. Padme shrugged, she felt the ridiculous urge to laugh. Her fingers were broken.

Her arm was bleeding and she had just seen more death and carnage than she had ever thought possible. But with his face came a feeling of being reborn. So long as he lived, she could be nothing less than fine, nothing less than_ perfect._

"Now that I know you're alive I am… I had just given up on life, Ani," she admitted. Anakin did not seem surprised, though his eyes did widen.

"Well, don't do it again," he scolded mildly. Padme did laugh then. "Only if you promise not to get lost again," she said, and the hidden meaning was not lost on either of them. "Deal." Anakin looked around, still banging at the ice.

"Its thick," he grumbled impatiently. "I need to find a way to get you out of there," he said. Padme nodded, also looking up and around for anything she could use. Her grappling hook, maybe?

"Why can't you use the Force? Or your saber?" She asked, the thought suddenly occurring to her. Anakin looked at her sheepishly, head bowed as if he were afraid she'd be angry and strike at him through the ice.

"Oh. I never told you, did I? Once we got into the cavern of mirrors, I couldn't control the Force," he said. Padme ogled. She had learned from watching Anakin's life that he always had control of the Force, or at least could always _access _it to do small things. He was too powerful to be cut off completely.

"How?" She gasped. "This place," Anakin replied grumpily. "It's a place of balance. I'm…Imbalanced. As long as I am, I can't use the Force in here. And my Lightsaber won't work either. I've been trying for the past hour and a half," the way he said it made Padme think that he had probably thrown it against walls trying to make it work.

"I can't connect with the crystal inside, and so I can't give the thing power. I'm helpless, Padme," he admitted shamefully.

Padme studied him for a few moments, taking this on, knowing that it must have been torture to not only be bereft of the gift you had possessed since birth, but also at a time when you needed it most. "It is alright," she soothed him, trying to make him feel better.

"You're very handsome when you're helpless," Anakin looked up, and smiled. His eyes twinkled at her from beneath his icicled bangs. "Aren't I always?" Force, she had missed his childish charm. His waifish humor. "Especially then," she stated with utmost certainty.

"Well, if you can't use your saber or the Force, what about our grappling hooks?" she asked. Anakin seemed to think over her proposition before nodding. "If you pick at the ice from your side and I pick at it from mine, then we might be able to do it," he decided. Padme nodded and looked down, in time to cringe.

"Oh," she mumbled, recalling. "What?" Anakin looked down at what her gaze was sighted on, and went pale. "Padme!" he said, once more rushing at the ice as if to melt through it to get to her. "What did you do?" he asked.

"Well," Padme said, hesitantly. "I…Tried to find you," and it hadn't worked. Anakin stared at her fingers for along moment before softly asking "does it hurt?" Padme was relieved he had asked a plain question. "Not anymore. Its numb now. I can't feel them," she admitted.

"Have you…" he gulped. "Checked for frostbite?" Padme felt stupid as she admitted to herself that the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. Anakin was shocked when she said it aloud. "You have broken fingers on both hands that you can't feel and you never thought to check them for frostbite? You never thought to check for frostbite _at all_?" he almost squeaked.

Padme blushed, embarrassed. She supposed it should have crossed her mind, but after she had been sure Anakin was _dead_, nothing else had seemed to matter anymore. Her life had been of little consequence without the person who gave it meaning. "I thought you were dead," was all she could offer in defense of her M.I.A intelligence.

"And so you didn't…? Never mind. I wouldn't have thought of it, either. You can't work a grappling hook with broken fingers, Padme. Not for long," he said. Padme nodded, feeling as helpless as he did.

"Can_ you_ get out?" she asked. "Yes. I was closer to the entrance when the cave fell in," Anakin responded absentmindedly, as he continued to study the ice as if it would somehow tell him what he needed to know.

"Then go," Anakin went still. "What?" He asked. Padme did not rescind her answer. She only pleaded with him in her heart to go. "Go, Anakin. You can get back out to the ship and find help," she didn't want him to stay inside of the cave with her, where he might freeze to death or the cave might fall in all the way and crush them both. If someone had to die, better she than him. It was her destiny to help him balance the Force, after all.

"Padme. By the time I get to the ship, get back up to the cruisers, manage to find someone who can help us, then you'll either have frozen or the cave will have fell in. And that's not counting all the number of things that always go wrong when a plan is simple like this," Anakin told her what she already knew.

Padme said nothing. Anakin's eye glowed with realization of what she was doing. "No!" he cried vehemently, fists clenching. "No, Padme. I won't leave you," he determined. _Like I left you?_

"Anakin, there's no way that you are going to be able to get me out of here in time with one grappling hook. And we're both getting colder. You have to get out now!" She lowered her voice with a deep breath, trying to drain the desperation from it. "Please, Ani. Do this for me," she whispered.

Anakin opened his mouth several times, his expression one of a person who had just had cold water thrown on their face. After the first few attempts at speaking, he finally sighed. His eyes were soft with tenderness, but his jaw clenched in determination.

"Padme, do you remember back on that bridge when you could have turned back? You could have left me then, but instead you risked yourself to save me. You've already proved to me that you'd die for me. But will you_ live_ for me, too?" He asked.

Padme felt as if Anakin could be very wise when he wanted to be. With a life like the one he had lived, it was hard not to see it there, just below the surface of reckless youth. She couldn't help but smile. "With all my heart," he smiled back, feebly.

"Then I promise, we _will_ find a way out of here. We just have to wait and see what arises; eventually I'll have to become balanced again. And when I do the whole damn cave is coming down. I blame _it_ for this," he decided with the stalwart _belief _in a better future that had always marked him as different. When the going got tough…

The tough made fun of the universe.

"Patience," she summed up, lowering herself daintily to the ground. "Yeah," Anakin said, sounding extremely like he hated the word in itself. "Patience," he exhaled slowly. Padme gazed at him lovingly as silence fell like a protective blanket, relieved and hopeful.

"I'm so glad to see you," she whispered sincerely. "The _real_ you," Anakin nodded and settled unto his knees in meditation posture. "As am I," he breathed. "When I woke up, you were gone, and all the ice was shattered… I ran all around this entire cavern system looking for you until I could barely walk. I had just collapsed in here when I saw you," he told her. Padme gulped, pressing palm against the ice. Anakin pressed his palm up to meet hers.

"How long have we been in here? Do you know?" she asked. "I think a day has passed. People might notice we're gone-probably not. I never told anyone where we were going, just told Rex it might take a while. The clones will look after the twins," Padme felt disappointment niggle at her, though she had expected this answer.

She knew a good many people would take care of the twins. And it was not rare that at times members of their family did not see her or Anakin for days at a time. Their schedules were often quite different and frenzied, so many things to take care of. It was probable no one knew they were in danger at all.

"I woke up and you were gone. I spent… I don't even know how long," had it been seconds, minutes, hours? "Calling for you until I finally thought you had been crushed by the rest of the ice. Stars, Ani, you aren't allowed to die," she told him seriously.

Anakin flashed an impish grin. "Likewise," he responded simply. Padme gave him a wondering look, able to see through the mischief to the terror he had felt for her.

"Then I saw you. Or, I suppose I must have been hallucinating, but…" she touched her cheek. "It felt so real," she whispered. Anakin stared at her for a long time, weighing something in his mind, before shaking his head. "It was," he breathed.

"I had the same experience, Padme. I stumbled once and fell into some old wolf's nest or something…And I saw you," Anakin closed his eyes against the turmoil inside. "I-I thought it was your ghost. You were so afraid…Of _me_," his voice wavered. "You thought I had come to hurt you. You wouldn't let me anywhere near you. I hated it," he whimpered.

Padme gazed at him with sympathy and understanding. Oh, how she knew what it was to feel fear, but never _of _Anakin. She had seen too much of him to truly ever fear him, to ever doubt his integrity again.

"I thought I saw your ghost," she agreed. "You hated me. A lot. You said you never loved me, that I wasn't worthy," she touched her cheek again, feeling nothing but numbness. "You hit me," she marveled. Anakin's eyes snapped open. "I hit you?" He screeched, disbelieving. Then, as something occurred to him he added "you_ let_ me hit you?"

Padme smiled thinly. "You were angry. You didn't mean it," she assured him. "So that gives me the right to _hit you_?" Anakin screeched. Padme was once again reminded of why she trusted Anakin's judgment so much. He had had always had sound morals.

"No, but you'd never hurt me unless it was for my own good, Anakin. You'd never hurt anyone unless it was for the greater good. I trusted you had good reasons," she told him. Anakin gawked at her for a full minute and half, then eyed her as if he wasn't sure _she_ wasn't the one with a concussion for another two minutes.

"Padme, you know that I'd _never_ lay a hand on you, right?" He asked suddenly when he was done ogling her. Padme nodded. Then there was that. "Never," she agreed. Anakin's shoulders relaxed a smidge. "Good. But if for some idiotic, probably Sith related reason I lose my mind and do, I want you to shoot me. And if you can't-get Ahsoka. She'll happily do the honors," he told her with extreme seriousness.

"I would never do that to you, Anakin. Just as I would never flinch away from you in fear." Padme told him without preamble. Anakin gave her a half-smile, seeing through her attempt to cheer him up. "Just so, it could never happen anyway. And… You would never fear me?" he gazed at her with apprehension. Padme barked out a painful laugh.

"Could you ever hate me? I mean, _truly _hate me?" She wondered. She had seen through his memories and felt his love, knew that it was never ending. Anakin, for some odd reason, did care for her more than anyone. He relaxed. "No," he said. "Then there's your answer," he studied her a moment more.

"You seem…Stronger," he marveled suddenly, plaintively. Did she? If anything Padme felt weaker than she ever had. She felt more helpless and her heart throbbed more than it ever had, but…Perhaps pain was what made love stronger, struggle was what solidified the need to serve.

It was not fair, was not right that it be this way, but if the universe were fair or right then Anakin wouldn't have fallen in love with her. Qui-gon wouldn't have died, and their family wouldn't be together. The present they knew would be in ruins.

"Its borrowed strength," she promised him. Anakin cocked a brow. "Borrowed from whom?" he sked. Padme thought about that for a moment. Then, without warning or knowing why, she lowered herself to lean against the ice, back to Anakin. Her bones were trembling beneath unresponsive skin. She was going to need all her strength to stay awake for the upcoming conversation-all of her strength to stay alive. It was morning.

She was ready.

"You," Padme breathed when she was in position. Anakin did the same; their shoulders would have been touching had the ice not been there. "I saw… _Everything_ in here, Anakin. The mirrors turned into something else. I saw your life flash before my eyes, every second of it," she could not see his face, but the doubt of this statement hovered in the air between them.

"Padme, maybe you were dreaming…" he started to suggest gently. "You have a scar on the back of your right knee from the time you tried to jump over a twenty foot tall fence when you were thirteen and didn't make it," she interrupted knowingly. Anakin fell silent, surprised "How could you…? I never told you that story! I half can't remember the details!" he cried.

"You ran away from the temple when you were fifteen and fought Obi-wan tooth and nail until he threatened to make you go to math studies in the morning…And then you ran away again when he did it anyway," she couldn't see the blush, but it was there judging by the sheepish snort Anakin emitted.

"Okay, I believe you now," he mumbled. "Then what I saw must have been real too," fear wiggled its way into Padme's conscious. "You saw _my _life?" She asked, horrified. She did not want Anakin to know some of the things she had done. "Every second. By the way, you never told me your mother used to call you 'paddy,'" he said. Padme groaned as he snickered softly. That was one of the things she had _not _wanted him to know.

"For good reason," she said dryly. "And don't you dare tell anyone that, unless you want me to bring up the name Bant used to call you," she threatened. Anakin scoffed. "What name? Bant never called me…"

"Ani-wani pumpkin pie so cute the girls wanna cry?" She inquired.

Anakin went silent in mortification. "Er," he mumbled. "I had forgotten about that one. Please, whatever you do, do _not _mention it to Ahsoka. I surrender. My mouth is closed if yours is," he said. Padme couldn't help but laugh.

A few seconds later, Anakin did too, the both of them laughing hard enough to break their ribs until tears were squeezed from the corners of her eyes and she sat back, one hand holding unto her side. Relief and delight warred for dominance as the hell they had both been in for the past however much time evaporated.

"Ah," she gasped when their snickers had abated. "I love you," had anyone asked her why that was the phrase she spoke next, Padme would have been unable to answer. She herself wondered why the feeling of pure, adoring _love_ rose and suffocated her now. Anakin sobered immediately. "Even after seeing all I've done?" he asked darkly. Padme spoke her heart without hesitation.

"All it did was make me love you more," she sighed. "You never stopped loving me," she whispered sorrowfully. "Even when I betrayed you, even after you knew that I had been disloyal, you never stopped loving me," she stated, because she had seen it. She had felt how much it hurt for him to see that he had lost her-but he had loved he all the same.

"Nor did you. I felt your emotions, Padme. I _was _you, in that… Experience. You never loved Jiro, not like you do me. And you have _never_ stopped believing in me, not even while I was away at war or being a barve," he chuckled brokenly. "Especially when I was being a barve," he added as precursor. Padme felt uncomfortable at the affection she heard in his voice, even if she had craved to just hear his voice while she thought he were dead.

A cold breeze moaned beyond the glass. She felt Anakin shudder through the ice, and wanted nothing more than to go over and hold him, give him her warmth and life. "He was like Palpatine," Anakin's voice snapped her out of her yearning. "What?" she asked.

"Jiro,"Anakin specified. "He was like Palpatine. There were things-you know about them now-that I never told anyone but him. Not even you or Obi-wan. He turned me against my friends and poisoned me to my family because of his lies, and I went with them because I wanted too, because I was _blind_," he spat. Padme shook her head.

"It took him _years_ to deceive you, Anakin. And in the end, you saw the truth. It took Jiro weeks to bring me into his trap, and I did betray myself and my family. I played right into his game," she said with bitter self-loathing for she was still full of pain and sorrow for the trouble she had caused, _was _causing.

"Did you?" Anakin mused thoughtfully. "Jiro may have wanted you to leave me and hurt me in revenge for killing his brother, Padme, but what he really wanted was for you to love him completely," Padme shivered at the thought of loving such a low-down dirty snake.

"He wanted you to become as devoted to him as you were to me. You may have loved what you thought he was, and followed him, but… You never loved him. I know love in your eyes. I know what your love looks and feels like. That wasn't love. You were comforted by him, like I was comforted by Palpatine. And you were loyal to me, maybe not physically, but emotionally. When you had the slightest inkling that I needed your help, you raced to my rescue, Jiro or not," he said. Padme shook her head vulnerably, wondering if Anakin actually knew what he was saying, wondered if he actually believed it.

He answered the question for her. "And don't say it was for the people-part of it might have been, but I felt what you felt, Padme. You wanted to get to_ me_. You wanted to help_ me_ because you knew I'd fight the Sith. I sort of feel sorry for Jiro, the idiot should have known not to stand in your way," he chuckled with real triumph, obviously remembering what had been done to Jiro and taking great enjoyment from it.

Padme grinned. "He didn't know me like you do," she explained neutrally. "Obviously not, had you given me that look I would have handed you my saber and told you to watch out for pedestrians," Padme chuckled, helpless against his onslaught of good-natured teasing.

_And to think you'd thought you'd lose him. _

Padme inhaled profoundly as her own store of memories haunted her. "Anakin," she said after a moment of composing her thoughts. How did one say something like this? At last, she intended to ask why….But how?

"Why did you forgive me?" She asked softly. "During the battle when I showed up and kissed you,"- it had been rather foolhardy and dramatic, really- "you didn't even flinch. I would have understood, you know, if you had decided that you couldn't trust me. I would understand if you wanted to leave. So…Why?" she asked the question that had nagged her so many nights that she knew they must have taken up most of Anakin's time seeing through her eyes.

_Why, why, why?_

Why did the sun come back when those below only appreciated it when it left? Why did the stars continue to twinkle and dance when they were not given the time of day compared to the mysterious darkness?

Why did the moon never fight against the demons who nibbled it away every day and then grew back to be nibbled at all over again? Why did beauty continue even as ugliness outshined it?

Anakin did not reply for a long time. The wind had blown through the cavern several times by the time he found his voice, and Padme, dreading it, found her answer. In her nightmares, she had heard Anakin say _"I never forgave you,"_ or _"because I felt like I was duty bound too,"_ and knew that though he was rubbish at hiding what he truly felt on a good day and had never really gave a damn about duty when it impeded what he thought was right, she feared these answers from him.

"In the beginning during that battle, I was just so relieved to see you there, Padme. I had missed you so much over the two weeks you were gone that another day would have been the death of me anyway. When you kissed me, it felt like I had meaning again, like there was a reason for me to get up," she knew the feeling. Padme had felt the same when she had seen him alive and well just moments earlier.

"And later it was for the twins. I know what it is to grow up without one parent. I could never do that to them," Padme sniffled. Anakin trudged on, gaining confidence as he spoke.

"Then… Then I realized that I just couldn't hate you. I could never leave you. Nothing you ever do could make me hate you. I was angry, hurt, distrustful, betrayed… But I was never hateful. I just _can't,"_ suddenly, Anakin threw his head back and barked out a laugh.

"It is like when I slammed Obi-wan's head into a wall and gave him a concussion. I asked him why he'd forgiven me, why he didn't fear me remember?" she did. She remembered it well because she had lived through it with him, and was slightly astonished still by the forgiveness she had seen on Obi-wan's face.

"He said because he couldn't. There was just something that wouldn't let him shake the loyalty he felt towards you," just as Sabe had said. People met and stayed together for a reason. Because it was just…_Meant to be._ They were all part of their own prophecies. They all had a destined path, just not everyone walked it.

The Skywalker's had always walked it.

"Exactly. I never understood that until now. There is no way I'd ever give you up, Padme, I don't think everyone realizes that when they say 'no way,' there really is no way," he murmured. Padme nodded in agreement. She felt the same, but still… It wasn't right.

"I hurt you," she said. "You have only ever loved me, and I turned away from you. I let you down, Anakin," her voice shook tremulously. "I failed you," she whispered. "Padme…" his voice was gentle, a redemption already given without punishment.

"No," she interrupted abruptly, the sudden need to tell him what she had actually come here to tell him, to finally get this weight off her chest becoming so overwhelmingly, compellingly unnoticeable that she could no longer hold her tongue. "No, Anakin. Let me speak. We both need to hear it. I _have_ to make this right," at least out loud, at least to herself, to finally say it.

Anakin sighed. "Alright," he accepted. Padme felt gratitude run through her like cool water in a stream. She very much wished she could hold Anakin's hand right then. "I have seen your life and this universe through your eyes," she began softly, tenderness building in her chest.

"Eyes that have always been bright and caring, as warm as the sun. I have seen what an amazing man you are, Anakin, how incredibly loyal, how momentously brave. I have always felt honored to be your wife, but now…" Padme's bottom lip trembled. She had to exhale a slow breath as pressure built in her chest, tears that had dried up the last few times she had sobbed today. Pain that was so excruciating that to be relieved of it would be to be reborn.

She had a mission, one that took precedence over anything. She had to close this wound of fear. She had to make right this gaping bleeding mass of anger.

"Now I know that I was never really worthy of it. I have _never_ deserved you, Anakin Skywalker. I don't know who decided I did, but they were stupid. And don't argue with me… No matter the excuses that could be given, never mind the reasons or the causes or the charms Jiro had, I still left you," her heart quivered, along with Padme's eyes.

"I still betrayed the trust you had in me. I still defiled myself in your eyes; and the eyes of the twins too. I was selfish, and having felt the pain I caused you, I understand. I get it now. Nothing can make up for that, there is no way to fix this, but I can try," resolve slammed into place with the ferocity of a steel door. "I'm_ going_ to try, no matter what. All the same, the best I can do for the moment is say I'm sorry, Anakin. I am so, so_ sorry_," the last words were forced out in a hoarse whisper as Padme's strength sapped from her, along with the massive weight on her shoulders. Freed from the guilt, she took in a deep breath the first in a long time, and savored the way the chilly air felt in her lungs.

She felt as if she had only breathed for the first time. Padme's eyes went to the sky, waiting patiently for whatever answer that he gave her. She had spoken in her turn, handed over the remorse, and now she let him hold her sincerity in his hands and inspect it for flaw.

If he judged her unworthy, then it was only what she deserved. Padme had faith in his judgment. She had given him her heart, and if he tore into it with the savagery she had, she would not raise a hand to stop him.

But, like the man he was, like the light he served, Anakin did none of those things. For he_ was_ Light, as surely as some said he was the Chosen One. As surely as Padme whispered that he was her _husband _within the confines of a bleary mind. He said three unpretentious words that hit her with exquisite exactitude, and collapsed the black hole of betrayal, satisfying it this time with adoration and appreciativeness.

"I forgive you."

Padme had not been aware she was holding her breath until it came out in a small sob. He meant it. She had closed the wound, and healed it with her touch, he had filled the hole and brightened it with his care. And now she knew why, she knew why the moon, and the sun and the stars stayed, why beauty and life existed.

_Love. _

"Whether in sickness or in health," Anakin recited softly from the other side, reciting the vows which they had taken one sunny afternoon in the privacy of their hut, with only two droids as the intended audience.

"Rich or for poor," Padme added, pressing herself against the ice, hoping to feel a tendril of his warmth, the warmth of her sun. To the heart he had placed in her hands, he whispered. _I'm sorry._ To hers he replied likewise. _I'm more so._

"For better or for worse," he said, and his voice wavered with joy. Not many people understood what 'for better or for worse' meant. There were limits in the minds of ordinary men.

Living beings dared not dream past what seemed possible. Love had boundaries, the sky had to end, but Padme knew better now. True love itself was past the boundary, the sky was endless. She felt her heart quiver once, and then relax, finally, _finally_ at peace with itself. She was at peace at last. "Peace or war," she whispered. But if war should come again, she'd be ready to greet the dusk, having met the morning.

And through the ice, their palms pressed into one another as if they could send their love through telepathic waves when such extraordinary movements were unneeded. "Until death do us part;" they finished in unison. She smiled. "_There is no death, Padme," _a voice strangely like Sabe's whispered in her mind.

_CRACK. _

"_There is only the Force." _Padme let out a small shriek of protest when suddenly the strong backing that had kept her upright fell in on itself, tiny crystals of ice melting beneath her weight as easily as if it had been only centimeters thick. Padme fell backwards with a shout, landing on her back and feeling the patter of tiny icicles landing on her face and chest.

Next to her, a large body did the same, his head positioned near her knees. "Ouch," Padme grumbled as she struggled to sit up, careful of her fingers. She knelt on her elbows, one hand going to her newly throbbing headache. _That _was just…

Anakin was grinning at her from where he sat upon his own elbows, eyes glittering with tears and there, not behind the ice out of her reach but _right there._ Padme's scream of joy matched his own grunt of relief as they pushed themselves up at the same time and collapsed into each other's numb and stiff arms, holding on as tightly as the coldness would allow.

Padme was laughing through her tears, and Anakin was chuckling through his gasps. "Hi," she choked into his shoulder. Anakin released her (why the heck did he do that?) and looked into her face with pure affection. "Hi," he responded in turn.

Padme wiped away a tear. "What happened? Did you do that?" she asked. Anakin shook his head. "_We_ did," he replied with a laugh. "_We_ did it, Padme. We bound ourselves and healed ourselves. We restored the balance," he whispered. Padme gawked at him. They had?

Of course they had. Together.

"Blasted Jedi cave," she snickered. "Lets get out of here," Anakin gave a curt nod. "Couldn't agree more."


	7. Morning

_The Rays of Faith, may they set you free. Have a hand in my harmony. And if this our fate, is to die, then hoping that the dawn will greet our sight before the ice cracks away, exposing crystal bodies to the Rays of Faith._

* * *

In the morning. Padme had said that she would speak to her husband in the morning. What the future had dictated though, to her apparent surprise, was that she would not speak to him in that morning, but _understand _him by the morning. And he would forgive her by night's end.

The snowstorm had abated when Padme and her husband stumbled from the mouth of the cave, stiff, sore, probably dying from cold and frostbite, but smiling joyously and happily for the first time in a year, they walked, hand in hand.

Padme's breath was momentarily knocked out of her body as she stared at the transformation that had taken place in the time they had been gone. It seemed only a day had passed, and a night. They had braved a day and night on Ilum, in a cave… Of course they had.

Padme had wondered where the majestic mountains that the Jedi spoke of and the fabled caves were the last time she had step foot upon this place, and now she saw. They were _everywhere._

The rising sun had painted the entire sky a vivid magenta as it rose, orange and fat, into the air. The mountains kept the light at bay, casting long, jagged shadows on the white and pure ground, but unyielding even to the sun. Beams of golden light made the snow sparkle and shimmer like rippling pond water.

Padme almost did not want to walk across the snow, so smooth and meaningful, and ruin the beauty of it, but beauty and ugliness existed together for a reason. Who knew? Perhaps they saw something in each other that no one else could ever notice.

"It is beautiful," she gasped. Anakin nodded at her side. His eyes were closed. He was seeing a different picture through the Force, but he was grinning and his expression was peaceful so Padme assumed it was just as beautiful.

"It has been waiting for us," he breathed. Padme gazed at the narrow horizon, at the dawn that had followed the dusk so unerringly, and grinned, thanking the sun for coming back.

She thought about the talk that she had been so afraid to give Anakin, the reassurance she had balked at, the fear that had clouded her vision and the pain that had been her ultimate suffering. Yes, the Light never _left._ It just passed on, always moving, always changing, like life. And sometimes people were left behind.

But they always caught up again.

"Yes, it has been," she agreed. "I had faith it would be here," she said, and privately that was what she called this new beginning, that was the name she stamped upon this day. The rays of faith.

Anakin opened his eyes and gazed down at her. "I trusted it," he agreed softly, and though they spoke of an unmoving object, of something that the scientists said would not wait for any mortal, never changed its designated path, they knew that to each other were the words addressed.

Padme gazed into his endless blue eyes, the eyes of her Light, and smiled. All pain, all discomfort was eaten by the new feeling of peace that had wafted over her. She knew the meaning of her life. Padme knew what her destiny was, and the people she walked it with would always be there. She was no longer lonely, as the moon was never lonely. For though they had never met, the moon had faith in the sun to come, and the sun trusted the moon to stay.

"I love you, Anakin," she breathed in perfect truth, with no fear or hesitation or even doubt that it was a returned feeling. The truth was never a cause for fear but a cause for glorification. He squeezed her hand, though she did not feel anything, and his loving eyes held her suspended safe and warm in their embrace.

"I love you too, Padme," he replied, and he meant it as surely as she did. There was no more pain. The night had passed, the demons been forgiven and sent on their way. It was time to begin a new day in the rays of faith. Together as Jedi and senator, husband and wife, seraph and warrior.

Without any real hurry, Anakin and Padme started walking back towards the ship, and the future that the ship would hold, hand in hand, with no fear in their hearts or betrayal between them. And even long after their ship had risen, their minds turned to other duties and agonies, their footprints remained stained in the innocent white snow, an eternal example of what happens when love has begun to climb past boundaries into boundlessness.

Examples of morning come at last.

**_THE END_**

* * *

Again, I have no clue where this came from, but I am glad that I wrote it. I hope it put things into perspective for everyone, and helped cool some left over hurts. We're almost done with the books, and the healing isn't over yet (is it ever with me?) so tune into those! :D

~QueenYoda


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